The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot!
by Kitty-Kat Allie
Summary: Spinoff of the "Sea Foam" chapter in Hetalia Fairy Tales. Captain Carriedo of the pirate ship, Buscador Dorado, seeks a legendary treasure "that is worth gaining" with the help of the infamous wish-giver, Lovino. But what is the true treasure? Complete
1. Siren

_Kitty-Kat Allie: All righty. So, this will be a story to fill in the next month before the Fairy Tales opens up again. I should work on the next chapter of that… hmmm. Anyway. This shouldn't be longer than four chapters. I'm thinking about three. Unlike _Sea Foam_, I'm going to use established countries, like Spain and France and Prussia (dun dun dun, spoiler alert). Enjoy this fun little epic. Let's see if I can actually pull off an action adventure! XD_

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter One

_Siren_

The sailors were getting edgy. Not that Antonio blamed them.

The sea was a steady, bright blue; the sunshine was hot and glaring, refracting off the endless surface and blinding the unwary eye. The sails were hanging slack, fluttering fitfully every now and then, barely inching the ship forward hour by slow hour. In every direction there was only the flat, shining horizon. The men were milling over the decks, grumbling under their breath, casting dark-eyed glances over the all-too tranquil seas. They had been out to sea for more than two months now, and supplies were running low. With this uncharacteristic calm, there was no telling how much longer it would take to get to their destination. A destination that no one had seen or charted. It was only known in sailor's tales. The few ships that had made this wild-goose-chase journey had never returned.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was a young captain. Many believed the Spaniard to have the luck of God on his side. He had never lost a skirmish with the much more powerful and faster British ships that preyed on the Spanish Armada and hapless privateers. He'd even gone toe-to-toe with the most infamous of British pirates, the same pirate feared in the entire Atlantic, and Antonio had lived to tell the tale, with his ship still intact, most his crew alive, and, most astonishing, his cargo untouched. He had gained his captaincy at the tender age of nineteen and for the past six years had proven such an unimaginable feat to be well-earned thrice-over. His sailors were well-paid and allowed as much time ashore with their families as needed; he was never lacking in volunteers to fill their empty spots. He was brave, funny, respected, and loved by all whom knew him. His fighting style was fierce and merciless when needed, but he always gave prisoners fair treatment. Some said he was a little soft in the head, too easily swayed by his crew's demands, and altogether too cheerful for a pirate captain, but none of his men cared about _those_ opinions.

Because of all this, it took a great deal to shake Carriedo's men's faith in him. However, as they eyed the uncannily flat sea and the limp sails and the ever-falling level of fresh water in the hold, their faith was becoming more shaken every day.

Antonio was leaning on the railing along the stern of the ship, the compass in his hand wobbling in a way he'd never seen it. Surely there was only one north? But why did the arrow spin and bob so around the surface? He heard the gentle tread of approaching footsteps and quickly snapped the compass shut. He looked over his shoulder and grinned, seeing his long-time friend and first mate.

"Gil, _hola_. Finally got tired of the shade, _mi amigo_?" Antonio teased lightly. Gilbert Beilschmidt scoffed.

"It smells worse than old cheese down in the hold. I'd have suffocated if I stayed below any longer. Has the sun got to your head yet, _mein Kapitän _?" Gil retorted snatching the wide, black hat off Antonio's head and slapping over his own fair head. "Ugh, gross. It's all sweaty," Gil groaned, though he kept it. Gilbert burned much too easily not to wear a hat, but he never remembered his own and he never liked to admit it. Antonio had more than once questioned Gilbert's choice in profession (why would an albino Prussian _willingly_ choose the life of a _sea-faring pirate_), but, despite his lack of skin, hair, and eye coloring, the life of the pirate suited his boisterous friend to a T.

"_Mes amis_, have you both decided to meet and leave me out? I'm so unloved," sighed Francis dramatically. Antonio had known Francis even longer than he'd known Gilbert. Both had been cabin boys together under the captain that first employed Antonio and later given him his ship. Francis far preferred the easy life of the ship's cook than swabbing decks and hauling anchor, a position Antonio gave over without a qualm.

"This is more a freak accident than something planned. I came up here to complain. And you, Franfran?" Gilbert asked, making both Antonio and Francis groan.

"I _despise_ that nickname," Francis told Gilbert for the one hundredth time.

"I can't make the wind blow, Gil," Antonio replied at the same time, for the sixteenth time that day.

Gilbert only cackled.

"I do have to admit, _mon ami_, I, too, have become worried. This utter lack of even a breath of wind bodes nothing good. We should turn back to Tortuga before we are lost forever," Francis advised, coming up to Antonio's other side and leaning on the railing. "With this heat, the men will lose much water and salt and they will become sick. We must go back."

"I would… but…" Antonio trailed off, stroking the leather case of his compass absently.

"Tony, spit it out. I'm dying out here," Gilbert whined. Antonio released a puff of breath, torn between annoyance and humor.

"Look around you," Antonio ordered, waving his arm out over the horizon, encompassing the endless ocean in all directions. "There is nothing to aim for."

"Antonio, that's why there are _compasses_," Gilbert pointed out as if speaking to an idiot child. Antonio frowned at him.

"I am not so stupid, _mi amigo,_ that I haven't _tried_," he emphasized, holding up the useless tool in his hand. Both men stared at him.

"_Inconcevable_," Francis gasped, blue eyes wide with horror.

Gilbert snatched the compass from Antonio's lax hand and snapped it open. Both Frenchman and Prussian stared at the wavering arrow. "It's gotta be broken," Gilbert muttered, pulling out his own. Once again, the arrow waved and spun, directionless. "I _knew_ this was a bad idea! Finding some stupid, magic treasure was a fool's errand and now we're going to die of thirst! Do you know how _horrible that is_?" Gilbert demanded, slamming the compass against Antonio's chest.

"_Mi amigo_, you need to have faith. This is a good thing-" Antonio tried to reason, tucking the compass away and rubbing the sore area on his chest.

"How could you _possibly_ think that, Antonio?" Francis interrupted as Gilbert struggled to word his fury, releasing only babbling syllables.

"It means we are close! The magic is obviously affecting the compasses!" Antonio pointed out with a cheery, albeit forced, grin.

"Oh, _obviously_," Gilbert snapped, rolling his dark red eyes. "And while it's _fucking them up_ we'll just sit here with our thumbs up our-"

"What do you suggest then, _capitaine_," Francis loudly inquired over Gilbert's sarcasm, making the Prussian grimace.

"The tales say that when the wind fails, then look west, and _listen_," Antonio reminded them, chewing in his chapped bottom lip anxiously. Francis sighed and Gilbert groaned, slapping his forehead.

"I don't remember anything about looking _west_," Gilbert mumbled.

"It says to look towards the dying sun," Antonio said. Another groan and roll of ruby-tinted irises.

"The sun dies, _sets_, in the west. I also agree that it means west. Which means… we wait…" Francis murmured slowly. He didn't like this. Francis had trouble believing in magic.

"Wait for _what_? Damn it, Tony, there's _nothing out there!_ Look! Just ocean, ocean, ocean, sky, ocean! Do you see land? Anything that would house a famous treasure?"

"It's not the treasure we seek just yet," Antonio whispered, eyes towards the west, to where the early afternoon's sun was slowly crawling. Gilbert frowned, baffled. Francis smiled sharply. "We seek the wish-giver."

.

They had spent the afternoon setting up a shaded area, pulling down the useless sails to make a sort of awning. Gilbert's younger brother, recently added to the crew with the mind of an engineer, set up the covering. As the sun finally sank into the waves, painting the seas a gorgeous array of gold, purple, orange, and dusky blue, dinner was doled out. It was a tasty fish stew, the fish having been freshly caught and dried that day, and mugs of lukewarm water that the men nursed and savored slowly. All waited with bated breath, their eyes glued to the blend of sun-wrought colors on the sea.

Gilbert, the most impatient, was already on his feet, scowling darkly, when the sound first reached them. Every breath stilled, locked in their throats, as the most beautiful music they'd ever heard drifted over the stilled waves. A gentle, cool breeze picked up, caressing sweaty limbs and sun-reddened faces, until every scowl was soothed into a soft smile. The music danced inside their blood, bringing to mind every pleasant feeling and happy memory, the glory of a sunset, the awe of a sunrise, the laughter of a child, the simple kiss of a loved one.

"I have never heard anything so… so _magnifique_," Francis breathed softly.

Ludwig, Gilbert's brother, made to take down the shade-awning as the breeze picked up into a steady wind filled with the heady scents of spring and early summer. Antonio raised a hand, stalling Ludwig. The blond halted, scowling a bit in confusion, before his eyes widened. The ship was _moving with the wind without any sail_. Rather than fear, the entire ship was filled with amazement and delight. The music was so reassuring, the wind so cool and delicious, fear could not fill them.

"Something… something's not right…" Ludwig muttered, trying without much success to regain his well-known pragmatism. Gilbert smirked at his brother, the normally mocking expression softened.

"It's magic. Get over it, _bruder_," Gilbert laughed, light and joyous.

"Ludwig is right. I know… I know what this music means… what is it…" Francis muttered, mentally grasping for a word just out of reach.

Antonio, meanwhile, was struck dumb by the music. While he could feel and see all the lovely, beautiful scenes his men and friends felt and saw, there was something _else_. As lovely as the singing voice was, there was something… sharp… painful… _lonely_ in the voice. The voice was male, deeper than Antonio first realized, singing words he'd never heard before, sure they weren't even of an earthly language. In his mind's eye, an image began to bloom. A slender figure, outlined in gold, reaching out a slim, glowing hand. Golden eyes cut towards his face, but Antonio could not make out the figure's features; he could only sense the unbearable loneliness. He flinched, clutching his chest. _Who was that_?

"Ah, I remember now!" Francis cried out suddenly as a dark shape on the horizon mysteriously appeared. _"Une sirène_."

Antonio shook his head briskly as the island in front of him grew ever larger. "What's that, Francis?"

"A siren! That music is a siren's!" Francis repeated, shaking his head, trying to rattle the music from his brain. "It'll charm us and we'll die bashed upon rocks or thrown to the sea to drown," Francis told Antonio, his limbs still heavy and slow as he tried to force himself towards the captain's cabin.

"We gotta do something to stop that, don't we?" Gilbert asked lazily, swaying a little as the music's volume increased.

"We must do something _now_," Francis replied. "Antonio, help me."

Antonio felt the hold on his mind weaken, breaking apart as the idea of his _men_ being in danger grew. He hurried after the sluggishly moving Francis, still shaking his head as if to remove water from his ears. The music was gaining in strength and there was little time now. Already the men were moving restlessly to the singing, and who knew what they were dreaming. What if they walked right off the deck in confusion? He forced his way into the large cabin, wondering what Francis was looking for in here. He wasn't very tidy and the large, bolted-down, wooden desk was littered with paperwork, inkpots (mostly empty, more because he was too forgetful to replace them than anything), pens worn down to the nub (same reason), a tattered quill, a few pretty glass paperweights, and a set of brass scales (empty, who leaves coins on a desk?). Francis made for the nearest candle and broke it into tiny pieces, pulling free the wick and throwing it on the already messy desk. He tossed another candle into Antonio's hands.

"Rub them in your palms to warm them. We'll plug our ears with the wax," Francis explained, vigorously doing as he said.

They both hurried onto the deck. The more lucid men were able to fit the pieces of wax into their own ears, but most (like Gilbert) had to have the pieces shoved in their ears for them. It didn't take long before the men were able to regain control over themselves, though the music still lingered in their minds, making them sluggish and rather dull. It didn't help matters to be deaf. Most were grimacing uncomfortably and scowling at the island now just a few leagues away. They could make out the gently rolling hills, the dense, low forest, and golden beach easily. Among the wide, sweeping meadows, large white sheep strolled and lazily chewed at the thick grass growing in every direction. Between them and the island was a tiny, craggy rock, surf spraying all around it. Sitting atop this rock was a lone figure, the last rays of the sun glowing on the figure's bright, golden skin.

Antonio let out a loud cry, clutching at his head as he fell to his knees. The music, that aching loneliness, was inside his skull, stabbing at his brain like dull knives. He couldn't take it anymore. Francis was trying to shove the wax into Antonio's hands, or even trying to pull his hands away so he could put them in Antonio's ears himself, but Antonio's arms were locked. He couldn't move. It was getting hard to breathe. With every inch closer, the singing grew louder, increasing with tempo. Tears were streaming from his eyes onto the wooden planks below his knees and he bent over, pressing his forehead to the smooth grain, feeling it dig into the thin skin of his brow.

And just as suddenly, the singing stopped. There were soft murmurs of surprise, overly loud shouts, and a shuffling of boots that caused Antonio to look up, green eyes blurred with tears and chest heaving.

What he saw took what little breath he had left.

A slender boy- barely a man, really- was standing on the deck in front of him, completely naked. His skin was lighter than Antonio's swarthy brown, having been tanned darkly by the years at sea, but still the boy's skin had an olive hue to it. The gold he had seen were bright scales that dusted over his limbs, down his chest and stomach, over the high swell of his buttocks. The boy knelt and gripped Antonio's chin in his fingers, forced the pirate to meet his gaze- as golden as the scales on his skin. Antonio's eyes widened, seeing gills on the boy's neck, flaring just once, revealing golden, not the usual bright pink, flesh. The boy's features were sharp, a thin blade of a nose, thin though sensually curved lips in a sharp, mocking smirk, long, dark lashes making the golden eyes seem even brighter. His hair was dark, chestnut brown, cut short just at his ear lobes and left to fall in an elegantly mussed style, a single, wayward curl standing free over his right eye. The boy's smirk widened, showing off bright white teeth, which, Antonio was relieved to see, looked just like another human's teeth.

"You are?" the boy demanded, his voice sounding vaguely Italian in intonation. How surprising.

"Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo of the pirate ship, _Buscador Dorado,_" Antonio replied without hesitation.

"How… apt…" the golden boy whispered, that smirk growing. He stepped back and stood, Antonio quickly doing the same. "So you've found the wish-giver, Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Welcome to my island," his smirk became rather predatory. "You can tell your men to take the candlewax out of their ears now. My singing has ended now that you have made it so close."

Antonio lifted a hand and gave an "all-clear" sign, used when night-raiding and silence was essential. Men pulled the wax out, sighing gratefully. The golden boy, the _siren_, rolled his eyes.

"You'll see your ship is already beached. Don't worry, you'll get off the island easy enough… once the price has been paid," the boy's fierce smirk returned.

"What price?" Ludwig asked. The siren scoffed.

"Not now, big man. We'll discuss that when _I _say so. I take it the wish is for you, _capitano_?"

"Y-yes, I-" Once again, the siren interrupted with a sharp "tch."

"Not _now_. Don't you know _anything_ about manners?" The siren turned and walked towards the railing.

"Wait! You never said your name," Antonio exclaimed, quickly rushing forward and grasping the siren's wrist. Antonio's eyes widened. Though he had scales and gills, he was not cold like a fish _at all_. His flesh was warm, almost hot, to touch.

The siren yanked his arm away, face flushing bright red. "Don't you touch me!" he snapped. Antonio blinked. If the boy wasn't so ridiculously beautiful, Antonio would've thought he was… cute… "… Lo-Lovino. My brother calls me Lovino. And speaking of that idiot, he's waiting for us with dinner. It's getting late and he's scared of the dark, so can we hurry it up?"

Suddenly, he was on the beach and stomping towards the little forest on the hills. The crew gaped after him.

"For a creature with gills, he is very… shall we say, stunning," Francis mused, a familiar glint in his blue eyes. Antonio frowned at him, a dark, dangerous shadow in his eyes that made Francis throw up his hands and back away. It wasn't often Antonio showed that side of himself and Francis knew to retreat, though inwardly he was chuckling.

He had thought himself the only one with such… _eclectic _tastes.

"Well, standing here watching the nekkid kid walk off ain't doing anything. Let's get going before he gets too far to follow," Gilbert interrupted, turning to Antonio expectantly.

"_Si_, we will leave behind a small group of ten to watch the ship. The rest will join us. Volunteers?" Antonio bellowed over the crowd.

Most men, it seemed, would rather stay on the ship and he had to turn many of the volunteers down- Ludwig was one such volunteer. Antonio knew that Gilbert would prefer his younger brother in sight, even if Antonio would rather have the clear-minded, unflappable young man on the ship in his stead. They all clambered down the rope-and-wood ladder to the beach and then, checking their weapons and belts, took off towards the trees where Lovino the siren had disappeared.

Lovino had left them far behind, not once slowing his gait, but it wasn't very hard to find him again. The island wasn't much larger than the copse of lush pine and beech trees. After a short walk over through a well-trod and wide path, they were suddenly walking up a hill covered in emerald green grass and flowers so brightly colored they burned the eyes. The fragrance was indescribable, so heady and strong they were drunk on it before they crested the hill. Situated at the top was a white marble pavilion, with gauzy green, red, white, and blue drapes hanging from between the pillars and a long, white table literally covered with platters of food. Strange glowing lights fluttered over the table and around the pavilion. The drapes bulged and waved in the sea breeze, falling gracefully to reveal the two figures standing near the table. They turned as the group neared and one of them grinned widely.

"Ve~ Guests! So many! I'm so happy, Lovi~" the grinning one cried, clapping his hands to enunciate.

"Whatever," Lovino muttered, rolling his eyes.

The grinning boy ran towards the group, smile still wide and innocently joyous. He was slightly shorter than Lovino, but just as slender. Unlike Lovino, who had appeared naked, this one was clothed- if it could be called that. A soft blue wrap made of the same gauzy, lightweight material as the drapes floated around his lithe, golden-scaled limbs and he all but danced his way towards him. His hair was auburn, and his eyes were strangely closed, the thick black lashes covering whatever irises he had. He reached out with both hands and clasped Antonio's.

"Welcome to our island! Please say you'll sing and dance with us tonight, won't you? Ve~ No one ever stays very long and I'm always so lonely~ Lovi always runs off wanting to be alone and I hate it! Please say you'll play with me tonight, ve~" the boy pleaded, tears gathering on his pretty, girlish lashes. Antonio flushed bright red and nodded.

"Of c-course," Antonio stammered. This little siren boy was just too adorable. Antonio just wanted to snag him up and start cuddling, but his men were almost drooling with hunger behind him, all staring at the feast waiting for them.

"Yay! My name is Feliciano! Ve~ Come and eat, all of you. You all look so very hungry~" Feliciano dragged Antonio forward and his men eagerly followed.

The feast lasted for hours. Lovino joined them shortly after they began to eat, a dark scowl and disgusted snarl on his face. Thankfully, he had garbed himself- in similarly not-quite-clothing like Feliciano's, crimson red in color, but at least it covered him. It made Antonio distinctly uncomfortable watching Lovino move without clothing on. … With clothing on. Without even moving… Just sitting there _right next to him_ and breathing, muttering curses and complaints in that husky, baritone voice.

Antonio drank more wine that night than he had in a while.

He probably drank a little too much, which was the only excuse for his behavior. He sang loud clear with Feliciano, bawdy tavern songs that made the little siren laugh with delight and blush bright red. He danced with Francis, Gilbert, a few of his crew members, Feliciano, even Ludwig was pulled into the whirring circle of singing, drunken revelers. Feliciano ended up taking poor, stiff Ludwig under his wing and tried to teach him a few simple dances, much to the roaring amusement of the crew. Especially Gilbert who taunted and mocked Ludwig the whole time. Once or twice, Antonio would catch Lovino dancing near the outskirts, crimson cloths trailing around his calves and arms, golden scales shining in the starlight, and it took the Spaniard's breath away to see him.

The music never seemed to come to an end. Antonio fell asleep and dreamed he was dancing and singing still. When he woke up, the sun was already high above the horizon surrounded by a radiant halo that warmed him as he stretched and yawned. He looked around, rubbing his head, as his crew woke as well. They were mostly scattered about the pavilion, draped over huge pillows Antonio didn't remember being there. Feliciano and Lovino, though, were lying side-by-side on a large reclining couch. Antonio blinked. They were both stark naked.

Again with the naked.

Antonio groaned and gripped his head.

"_That_ made this entire trip worth it. Do you agree, _mon ami_," Francis asked, grinning and stretching luxuriously over his pillows at Antonio's side. Gilbert grunted and turned over, muttering "Lizzie, no" under his breath.

"Agree," Antonio replied, grinning, even though his head pounded. "Definitely agree…"

.

It was late afternoon before all his men had awoken and eaten. The whole time, Feliciano and Lovino were arguing in low, rushed tones in what sounded like Italian and then didn't sound like Italian. Antonio was trying to figure this out, his brain still rather mushy from his excessive of the night before, when the two sirens approached. Feliciano was looking rather depressed and Lovino was looking agitated.

"It's time for business, _capitano,_" Lovino announced.

The entire group tensed. Antonio got to his feet, nodding. Fortunately, Lovino was dressed again in his crimson robes.

"What wish is it you seek?"

"I wish… I wish for the greatest treasure in the world. A legendary treasure," Antonio answered clearly. Lovino rolled his eyes. The Spaniard grinned. "It's not just the goal I wish for, Lovi. I wish for the journey. I wish for a treasure that is _worth_ gaining," Antonio explained further.

Feliciano gasped, hands clasping over his mouth. Even Lovino looked rocked, his golden eyes wide in astonishment. Both brothers exchanged looks. For the first time, Feliciano's eyes opened, revealing soft, doe-like, brown eyes that glistened now with tears as a smile grew over his face. Lovino shook his head and scowled, though his golden eyes still looked haunted. The three pirate friends also exchanged glances, wondering just what had happened.

"Tch. Very well said, Spaniard. However, there is a price for what you seek," Lovino hurried on to say. Antonio nodded.

"Name the price, Lovi."

"Don't call me that!" Lovino snapped. He quickly regained his composure as Antonio chuckled. "The price is simple. A life."

Silence.

"Excuse me?" Antonio inquired pleasantly. Lovino scowled.

"A life. The price is a single life," Lovino snarled in annoyance.

Antonio turned back to his crew, all muttering in confusion and apprehension. "Well, this was fun, let's go," Antonio announced, throwing up his hands.

Lovino and Feliciano made strange, squawking noises as the men gaped at him.

"You aren't _serious_," Ludwig retorted, fair brows raised high.

"I'm not going to ask anyone to sacrifice their life for some stupid gold. The adventure was fun, let's head home," Antonio told him, grinning.

"Oh, you dumb bastard!" Lovino exclaimed. He stomped forward and kicked the back of Antonio's knee, knocking him to the ground _hard_. Antonio bit down on his lip, drawing a little blood, in surprise and pain. "Who the _hell_ said someone would die?"

"Lovi~ Ve! You hurt him! _Capitano_, are you all right?" Feliciano cried out, fluttering around Antonio, wringing his hands anxiously. Lovino 'feh'd.

"You just said the price was a life," Gilbert pointed out to Lovino, frowning darkly. "How does that not mean dying?" He reached out to pull Antonio to his feet.

"We don't want a death! What the hell would we do with that? A life is much more useful," Lovino said, rolling his eyes. He pointed at Feliciano with an abrupt movement of his hand. "I must take you to your damned "greatest treasure" and my idiot bastard of a brother will have no one watching him. Do you _know_ what sort of mischief he gets into alone? Not only does he cry all the damn time and it takes _weeks_ to calm him down and get him _away_ from me because he _never_ stops hugging all the damn time, but he always manages to hurt himself somehow."

"You want a life… to watch your brother?" Francis said slowly. Lovino rolled his eyes.

"That's what I just said, ya damn genius," Lovino agreed waspishly.

"I will volunteer," Ludwig spoke up, stepping forward.

"What? _Nein_! Lutz, you don't have to do-" Gilbert exclaimed, grabbing Ludwig's arm. He cut off when Ludwig laid his hand over Gilbert's and gave him a small smile.

"I know I do not have to do anything, but I _want_ to do this. I am the least experienced sailor on the ship and therefore my absence will be the least missed. You need every one of your men for something like this. I could become a liability and that is the last thing I want," Ludwig stated simply. Gilbert gritted his teeth and glanced away, knowing Ludwig was right and hating it.

Ruby-red eyes pierced Lovino angrily. "Will we get him back?"

"Excuse me?" Lovino queried with a lift of an eyebrow.

"When we bring you back after getting the damn treasure, will Ludwig come back home with us?" Gilbert asked slowly and carefully, almost hissing through his teeth.

"Of course. If you bring me back safely to this island, to my brother, Mr. Studly can go back home with you. _If_ he wants to," Lovino tacked on, smirking. Gilbert and Lovino glared at each other.

"Ve~ I'm so glad you chose to stay, Mr. Studly~" Feliciano was quick to interrupt, latching on Ludwig's arm and smiling up at him happily. Ludwig blushed brightly, his whole body becoming tense.

"That's n-not my name. My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt," Ludwig informed Feliciano. The little siren made a strange face.

"That name is so difficult, ve~ I will call you Luddy. _Si_, that is a very cute name! I like it. We'll have _so much fun_ together, Luddy, you'll see. I'm so glad I won't be lonely, ve~ I hate being alone," Feliciano said as he snuggled closer to Ludwig. The tall blond stared over at Gilbert, helpless and confused, as most the crew (especially Antonio and Francis) shook with silent laughter.

"Feh. Let's just get going, all right? My brother gets embarrassing when he gets new playmates," Lovino said, already walking towards the trees.

Antonio nodded and motioned towards his men. "Head out, men," he called out. Most of them eagerly surged towards the trees. While it had been a nice vacation, the magic of the place still kind of felt _odd_. The sooner they were on the ocean the better. Antonio clapped Ludwig's shoulder companionably and then strode after the golden siren, easily catching up as the sailors marched past them, all talking and laughing. Francis kissed both of Ludwig's cheeks, gave him a quiet prayer, which made the German a little uncomfortable because he didn't really like Catholic blessings, before he too went after Antonio and Lovino.

Gilbert stayed behind the longest. Even Feliciano walked a distance away to give them some privacy. After a few, intent words were exchanged, the brothers hugged, the older with tears in his eyes before he broke away and loped up towards the tree where the group had long disappeared. Feliciano was back at Ludwig's side, holding his hand tightly, watching as the tall, lean figure ducked into the trees and out of sight.

.

_Kitty: AHA! I finished the first chapter. I will be three chapters. I finally got it worked out in my head so it should work. XD How is it so far? Forgive the typos. I am Beta-less for this one. ;w;_


	2. Contract

_Kitty:_ _All righty, chapter two on the way. Thank y'all for the sweet reviews and, to all your shy and/or lazy people, thank you for the fav's and alerts. =w=b _

_A quick note for the last chapter: Yes, the compass is not _completely_ necessary for navigation. The sun and, during the night, the stars can be, and _were _used for navigation before there was a compass. And yes, as a ship's captain, Antonio is more than competent in those skills. HOWEVER, how the hell would you feel if you most reliable navigational tool suddenly _ceased to work_? Not exactly giddy, I would think. If suddenly your compass, which uses the magnetic field of the EARTH suddenly CAN'T FIND NORTH, then what else could possibly go wrong? Just making sure that was clear before someone tries to be witty. (Which that would be me if I were reviewing this… *sweats*)_

_FYI, it will be four chapters. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. But I AM Antonio. Just so you know. XD_

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter Two

Contract

Lovino's directions led the _Buscador _further east into the Mediterranean. It wasn't often that Antonio led his ship further than the far side of Italy. They had traveled to Greece before, early in his command, but not in the past couple years. He much preferred attacking British ships and taking back even a small amount of what those damn Brits had stolen from Spain; most of his crew was Spanish as well, so it was a goal unanimously encouraged. However, Lovino had pointed to an isolated stretch of ocean in the Aegean Sea, the closest land mass being, in fact, Greece. Naxos, Greece, to be exact. Because of their destination further east, they would not be returning to Tortuga, the small pirate-infested island off the coast of Spain, which caused both Gilbert and Francis to be a little put out (for rather similar reasons…). Instead, Antonio re-plotted their course to Siracusa, Sicily to refresh their stores, which would only add a few days to the journey. After the hour it took to discuss the route and the necessary checkpoint, Lovino left the poop cabin and didn't return. Not that it helped much.

That first day was excruciating for Antonio.

He tried to keep his distance, but there was only so much distance on a ship. Lovino was everywhere; checking every nook and cranny; frowning at ropes and pulleys and cannons; leaning over the railing and into the wind at the prow; whining at Francis for food and then throwing plates at the Frenchman for copping a feel.

Fortunately, Lovino had long ago seen the practicality of dressing in more sailor-like attire and set aside his strange, filmy robe. It had been something of a chore to accomplish when he had refused to magic his own clothing and then refused to explain why. Most the sailors were rather short and burly, not to mention Lovino had grimaced seeing the state of the clothing they had _on_. Francis and Antonio had both been too tall. Lovino and Gilbert had screamed and cursed at each other down in the hold, but Gil had finally handed over a few of his lesser worn clothes and one of his best outfits. The black linen trousers with Prussian blue stripes down the sides were a little baggy, Lovino's feet were still bare, and the loose white blouse kept slipping over his shoulders, but it was much better than the red thing.

Or being naked.

It really didn't matter _what_ Lovino was wearing, though. The entire day Antonio couldn't take his eyes off him. Even when Lovino had moved out of his sight range, Antonio was still so aware of him it was ridiculous. Surrounded by his men and the sound of constant movement,but he could hear Lovino's sharp, accented voice, often rising in anger, from across the ship, from _anywhere_ on the ship; he could even catch the light, nearly-silent tread of his footsteps when he passed. In the midst of a conversation, or while concentrating on navigational details, he would barely glimpse a flash of that snowy white blouse and be held motionless, enthralled by the graceful, almost dancing way he moved, the way he stood perfectly still just in Antonio's peripheral vision, the fleeting glances that met, gold to green, and the burning low in Antonio's belly.

Finally, night fell. He could retreat to his private quarters behind the poop cabin and it wouldn't be noticed. He would be alone with his thoughts until his dawn watch and hopefully, _hopefully_, he would wake up without Lovino in his mind. He sighed in relief as he kicked the door shut behind him, tossed his long coat and waistcoat onto the bolted down chair, and dropped down onto another to start the process of pulling off his knee-high, black, leather boots. Gil had stolen his hat again…

Antonio slid down in the chair; legs sprawled with the high white stockings still on, one hand covering his face. He hadn't bothered to light any candle or lamp, simply enjoying the dark quiet. He really had to pull himself together. He was going to spend months with that strange golden boy, stuck on this very _limited_ amount of space called a ship. He had to remember he was a captain. That he had responsibilities. That he had a _goal_-

"Haven't you heard of fucking _candles_?" a voice rudely demanded.

Antonio jumped, cursing a bluestreak in Spanish as Lovino smirked from the doorway. The door was closed behind him, the latch still down.

"How did you get in?" Antonio managed to croak.

"_That_ is a _very_ stupid question," Lovino retorted, still smirking. Antonio swallowed, hard, as Lovino casually shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it to the floor. "Human clothes are so damn constricting. Though, I must admit, _certain_ people manage to look rather dashing." Antonio's eyes were glued to Lovino's slender fingers as they oh-so-slowly loosed the strings on his breeches. "I _could_ create my own, with a better fit and more suitable colors," he frowned at the overall lack of color of his borrowed clothes, "but why expend _my_ energy. These clothes are so damn complicated. I might forget a thread and-" the breeches fell to the floorboards with a soft thump. Antonio's heart was hammering painfully, his green eyes slowly climbing up to Lovino's face, taking in every bare inch that never ceased being beautiful, no matter the amount of viewing. "There we go," Lovino murmured, meeting Antonio's gaze with burning eyes.

"W-What do you want?" Antonio asked hoarsely, unable to tear his gaze away. Lovino stretched luxuriously, reveling in his nudity, arms high over his head. Antonio tightened his fingers into fists, mentally ordering himself not to move.

"Oh, no, _capitano_," Lovino scolded, that sharp, ambiguous smirk on his face.

He stepped over the puddle of linen and walked over to Antonio's chair. He knelt between his knees and placed his olive-and-gold hands on the dark cotton. His hands looked so bright against the black fabric, so bright and slim as they trailed up Antonio's thighs. Even brighter eyes bored into Antonio's wide, slightly panicked, slowly heating gaze. The Spaniard duly noted in the back of his mind that Lovino's gills seemed to have disappeared, not even a crease left behind- of course that made sense, right-

"Don't you remember, you idiot? It's about what _you_ want," Lovino continued on, a finger tracing lazy S's up, up.

"I already asked-" he broke off as Lovino rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"There can be more than one contract, Spaniard. The one they all hear," he jerked his head towards the cabin door, "and one between us. You're really fucking lucky, you know. I don't normally offer. In fact, you're the only one of every godsforsaken pirate I've met that I've offered. I have a feeling, however, you would ask properly."

"The price?" Antonio whispered, reaching out to touch Lovino's bright cheek lightly. Those bright eyes flashed, a strange emotion both shining and fleeting.

"The hunger will never leave you once you've tasted. For the rest of your pathetic mortal life, there'll be no other you'll want, no other to satisfy," Lovino answered, his voice just as soft.

Both of Antonio's hands were now cupping Lovino's face, leaning forward even as he drew him closer. "I think I'm already paying it," he replied, grinning that wide, cheerful grin. Lovino scowled, even as his mouth twitched.

"Fucking idiot. You still haven't asked." His voice was warm and sweet on Antonio's lips.

"_Ay Dios mio_, I wish for you to be my lover, Lovino," Antonio stated formally, feeling rather breathless and ignoring the shiver of foreboding down his spine. "Whatever the price."

"The contract is done."

"_Santa María, muchas gracias,_" Antonio breathed.

Their lips crashed together, all hesitancy gone. Antonio tried to calm himself, try to slow himself down, enjoy slow, warm caresses and kisses like he normally did, but he couldn't. Not even his first time had felt like this, like his blood was boiling under his skin, like his heart was beating so hard it would break free from his chest, like every smooth inch of skin under his questing fingers wasn't enough. He had no idea how he managed to get his clothes off or get Lovino to the bunk, but both happened quickly. Not quick enough.

It was a blurry, electrifying, haze in his memory. So many details were burned into his mind, and yet he had no idea how much time passed, how many kisses over lips and skin, or how many times his mind grew blank with ecstasy. Lovino cries only urged him on, building up the passion, letting it burn and burn between them until all his flesh felt afire. It never was enough. It could never be enough. They finally succumbed to sleep so late it was early, the rocking of the boat lulling them into peaceful slumber. Below Antonio's ear, he could feel Lovino's heartbeat, slow, steady, alive. Slim fingers, just moments ago it seemed they were clawing at his back or digging into his hips, were combing through his hair gently.

He was probably grinning like an idiot in his sleep. But he didn't really care.

.

It was more than obvious what was happening. That very next morning (a few hours after the first time, to clarify) Antonio took over dawn watch looking exhausted and ridiculously satisfied with himself. He wasn't quite "promiscuous," but he was very popular with the ladies. His men had seen him many times after a night spent with a woman, normally wealthy widows and the like.

As to male lovers, unlike many ship captains, Antonio didn't employ cabin boys in _that_ sense. When he had been a cabin boy himself, to the very pirate that handed over his ship to Antonio, he also had not had that sort of relationship. Antonio had never really seen men in that light, to tell the truth. He liked pretty women and he liked to give them presents, but most of the time the pretty women approached _him_. Not that he didn't like it. He just never had to go out of his way for it. Never had to think about it.

And however his men may have felt about male-male relationships (Francis didn't discriminate genders in _his_ sexual affairs, so it wasn't completely unknown), it was an unspoken decision that Antonio's affair with Lovino was _different_. One, Lovino was a _siren_. He wasn't just a man, he was a creature of unearthly beauty and magic and therefore outside societal norms. Two, they were in a magically-binding contract and weird things happen around magic. But above all, the crew had an unshakeable respect and love for their captain. It took them less than a day to see how ridiculously happy Antonio was and decide it was a subject better left undiscussed.

The affair would only end in heartache anyway. The siren would lead them to the treasure, then return to the paradise island in the middle of nowhere, and Antonio would move on. Who cared about some mid-sea dalliance that didn't hurt anyone? Their capitan was a grown man who had proven himself capable of making not only his own decisions, but the decisions of the fifteen men on board; decisions that could mean life or death.

.

They made it to Siracusa within a few weeks. Five men were left behind to watch the ship; the rest disembarked. His men not remaining aboard the _Buscador_ were given immediate leave and scattered, heading for the cheap taverns and bars along the wharf. Antonio, Gil, Francis, and, of course, Lovino, searched and found a well-to-do inn a few minutes from the docks. It took a few minutes to succor three rooms and board for two days and two nights. Then, Antonio sent Gilbert to stock up ammunitions, guns, and other useful items like tar, ropes, and cleaning supplies. Francis was sent to order fresh food and drink. Instead of staying at the comfortable inn and maybe taking a _proper_ bath, Antonio dragged Lovino out into the bustling Italian port city.

"Where the _hell_ are we going?" Lovino demanded crossly. He was uncomfortable strolling through the crowded streets, stiff and tense as he scowled.

"Are you Italian, Lovi? You and Feli sound like it," Antonio replied, grinning easily. Lovino glared up at him.

"Don't call me Lovi. And don't ignore me," he snapped. At Antonio's blithe smile, he sighed. "We didn't always live on that rock in the middle of nowhere. We travelled a lot… a long time ago…" Golden eyes scanned the crowd, face weary and _old_ for a fleeting moment. "We loved Italy best. We look rather Italian, so it was easy to blend in. People liked to hear us sing and watch us dance. Besides, nothing is better than pasta."

"Pasta?" Antonio repeated incredulously. Even after more than a fortnight of being lovers, he'd never seen Lovino reveal so much of himself.

"Yes, pasta. It is the most delicious food in the world," Lovino told him firmly. Antonio burst into laughter. "It isn't funny, you bastard! I'm serious!"

"_Si, si!_ It's just… it's so _Italian_," Antonio tried to explain, cracking up again. Lovino punched his shoulder, scowling fiercely, until, slowly, his face relaxed and he chuckled softly.

"_Si_, it _is_ rather Italian of me," Lovino conceded. He looked up to see Antonio staring at him, jewel-green eyes soft and bright. "_What_?"

"You laughed," Antonio said, his smile widening as Lovino frowned and blushed. "You sound beautiful. I like it better than your singing." Gold eyes widened.

"That-That is the most ridiculous-" Lovino sputtered. He broke off as Antonio touched his arm.

"We're here," he informed him, jerking his chin towards the building behind Lovino. The siren turned, still red-faced and scowling. He blinked.

Lovino looked up to Antonio's idiotically happy face and back to the shop, gaping. In front of them was a small, expensive-looking tailor's. Beautifully hand-sewn garments hung on mannequins in the window. The sign over the door was carved with curlicues and painted with gold and bright purple. The windows were made of real, perfectly clear glass.

"You need clothes that fit you better. And my first mate needs all the clean clothes he owns for himself," Antonio explained, placing his large hands on Lovino's narrow shoulders and nudging him forward. "Let's go, Lovi."

"I don't… I don't _need-_"

"Why waste _your_ energy, _mi corazon_, when you can waste _my_ money? I don't like keeping so many coins in my pocket. I'd _like_ to spend them on you," Antonio told him simply, still smiling. "Did you know, you look just like a tomato right now? It's very cute."

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Lovino shouted. He pushed through the door and stormed to the counter, his face bright red and his cheeks billowed slightly as he pouted in embarrassment.

Antonio spent the rest of the afternoon watching Lovino try on a few ready-made outfits and then be measured for specially-made ones. He gave advice about fabrics and colors, but Lovino really didn't need his help. He had more than a good eye of his own. Antonio basically just agreed or complimented Lovino's taste. He paid the tailor almost double the standard rate to get the clothes done within the next twenty-four hours and then led Lovino to the cobblers for a pair of boots. They left with an order for three different kinds (Antonio didn't understand how that happened…), once again spending twice the amount to get the orders filled in time. Then, they ate together at an expensive café, reported to have the best seafood pasta around. On the way back to the inn, Antonio somehow managed to burn even more of his gold. Lovino would see something, his eyes would light up in interest or surprise, and Antonio would be handing over the gold without even haggling before Lovino could open his mouth.

Antonio was absolutely besotted. There was no other word for it. He loved to watch Lovino's eyes grow wide, his lips curve into that shy, rarely-spied smile. He loved just giving to Lovino, even when he scowled and said he didn't need it as his lips twitched upwards. He just wanted this beautiful, magical creature, this young man with lonely eyes, to be happy.

The last thing he bought, as they strolled indolently towards the inn, packages filling Antonio's arms, was such a simple thing. A little glassblower's shop had a large window filled with knickknacks on display. Birds, deer, horses, even fish and faeries, cavorted over the display, their glass limbs looking almost real, as if they really were just about to rise. Near this teeming mass of frozen fauna, sat a wooden pedestal covered in green felt. A top the pedestal was a large glass bubble filled with smaller bubbles. The glassblower had used dye in the glass before blowing and, as the late afternoon sun filtered through the window and struck the bubbles, a dozen different translucent shades danced inside.

"That's pretty," Lovino said, his gaze following Antonio's. "I wonder how glassblowers do it. It looks like it's made from magic, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Hey, I'll be right back."

"Wait! You fucking _idiot_, it's made of glass! I won't take that stupid, silly thing on that ship! Are you- _are you even listening to me?_" Lovino yelled after him as he ran into the shop. He rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. "He's stupid. Really. What am I going to do with a colorful glass bubble?"

"He's stupid for leaving you alone, as well," another voice stated lazily from behind Lovino. He spun around, eyes wide at the accent of the voice, at the _language_ of the voice.

A short, slender man with bright blond hair and eyes just as green as Antonio's stood leaning against the opposing store's wall. He smirked, bushy, black eyebrows rising. His clothes were made of rich fabrics, white satin breeches with gold thread lines down the sides of his legs, snowy white silk blouse, black and gold brocade waistcoat, bright blue and red velvet coat with gold buttons down the front and tails to back of his knees, and black boots so polished they gleamed. A cutlass hung from one hip and a long dagger from the other. He uncrossed his legs and stepped forward.

"You better come with me, _siren_, or your current Spanish toy will be dead."

"I don't know who the hell you think you are-"

"I'm sorry, how rude of me." He bowed, still smirking. "Arthur Kirkland, dread pirate captain of the _Last Revenge_. I've come all the way from England for you, siren. I won't leave without you. Now come with me, or I'll have my men blow your pretty Spaniard's brains out. They're, right now, behind the shop and will forcibly enter the premises and kill him at my command," Captain Kirkland told him, that smug smile never leaving his face. Lovino snarled.

"Fine. I'll go with you."

"Not that you had a choice," Arthur replied, shrugging. He jerked his head one direction and Lovino began to walk, limbs stiff and movement jerky. He barely saw Arthur make a motion with his hand and three men, obviously sailors and British as well, came around the building and followed them.

.

Antonio came out of the store, yet one more small box in the huge pile he held. He glanced around and frowned.

"Lovino?"

.

_Kitty: . I have like, five pages open online (NONE OF THEM WIKI, THANK YOU), with deck plans and boat plans and nautical terms and pirate clothing and different fabrics- OMGAWSH, IF I EVER WANTED TO BE A PIRATE THIS WOULD BE USEFUL! BUT I PREFER NINJA, NOT PIRATE!_

_I totally didn't know there was a poop cabin… until I studied two different diagrams of a ship and then read up all those damn nautical terms. Apparently it's quite a useful cabin and once found, I ended up using it. And though I now know it comes from the Latin word _puppis_, I still find it awkward. It sounds better in Latin… _

_Sorry this was short. I wanted to go ahead and post it because I'll be busy all day tomorrow (technically today, since I have to wake up in, oh, three and a half hours?)_


	3. Curse

_Kitty: Alright, chapter three. It was pointed out that I was rather… lazy… on details in the last chapter. I will do much better this time, I promise! I might be able to upload this a lot faster than planned because I broke up this chapter into this one and the last one. We'll see. _

_I want to thank all my reviewers for being AMAZING. I feel so special. =3= I'm addicted to y'all. You make my day! Also, I want to thank all those silent readers. Thank you for reading. Thank you for the faves and the alerts. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Sadly. Unfortunately. Though, if I did, the art wouldn't be very good… and I don't know half so much about history…_

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter Three

Curse

Arthur Kirkland was sitting in a wooden chair on a thick, heavily-embroidered cushion. A large wooden chest with brass ribs and lock was sitting at the foot of the bed, unto which Arthur had laid his bright coat. The bed itself was huge, with a mattress almost as big as Antonio's cabin on the _Buscador_ and covered with a thick, feather-filled mantle of dark forest green. Pillows were stuffed into cream-colored silk pillowcases edged with fine, white lace. Next to Arthur was a marble-topped table. A green bottle full of red wine lay by his elbow and a single, full-bellied glass was half-empty in his hand.

Lovino glared out the window, ignoring Arthur's equally silent examination. The siren had his arms crossed protectively over his chest, his eyes narrowed to seething, gold slits. Below the window of this British pirate's ridiculously posh inn-room was a wide, cobbled avenue. Expensive, emblem-embossed carriages rattled down the streets and the few walkers were dressed in silks and satins, with high-heeled boots and bright colors and gaudy, flimsy parasols and starched gloves. Antonio, though just as wealthy, was much more modest. Lovino hated pirates like Arthur; always flaunting their ill-gotten gold and strutting around as if they owned the world. Antonio wasn't like that. Antonio was so different from all those greedy bastards. But even Antonio wouldn't put himself right into his enemy's hands just to _attempt_ to save Lovino. Lovino had seen the common room downstairs. It was _teeming_ with the Brit's lackeys and sailors. A rescue attempt would be nigh on suicide.

Lovino's shoulders slumped as the door creaked open.

"Cap'n, I brought the dinner," piped up a cheerful, young boy's voice. Lovino glanced to him. A young, barely teenage boy was striding into the room, grinning broadly. He ignored the twinge in his heart. That boy was nothing like Antonio, no matter what kind of smile he had. This boy was blond-haired and blue-eyed. He wore simple, homespun linen shirt and vest, and canvas breeches that were rather loose on his lanky, sun-browned limbs. The stub-heeled shoes clacked over the floorboards. In his arms, he easily carried a solid silver tray heavily laden with food and another bottle of wine. He set the tray down, his muscles not even quivering at the weight. Lovino was impressed, but he kept it to himself.

On the tray was freshly made pasta, linguine, Lovino remembered. The smell of sun-dried tomatoes, sharp olives, and zesty lemon assaulted the siren's nose, making the tip twitch. He quickly turned his gaze back to the street below. A half loaf of crusty white bread, still steaming from the oven, and a bottle of oil and pungent herbs in a small saucer for dipping accompanied the large plate of pasta.

"Where's the meat? The tea?" Arthur demanded irritably, finally breaking the silence. The boy shrugged.

"Dunno, gov'nor. They said it be the bes' dish o'the house t'night," the boy replied, snagging the loaf. He tore off a chunk and bit into the soft, warm insides. "'Tis righ' tasty, gov'nor."

"Don't eat like a heathen! And stop talking like that," Arthur scolded. He sat up and firmly placed the boy in the chair. He snatched the bread away and cut it into neat slices with his dagger. He poured oil over the herbs and then shoved one thick slice of bread into the boy's hand. "Dip it in the oil and then eat it _neatly_, Alfred."

"A'right," Alfred shrugged yet again, grinning. He shoveled down bread and a large portion of the pasta under Arthur's watchful eye before the pirate let the boy get back up again.

"You must have eaten something earlier. You didn't finish," Arthur noted dryly as Alfred jumped back up, stretching.

"Yessuh- Uh, Yes, sir, Cap'n. The cook let me eat with 'er and the kitchen girls. They have yummy biscuits 'ere," Alfred told him, blue eyes sparkling.

"Make sure you eat a proper breakfast in the morning, Alfred. Do not just eat biscuits and sweetmeats, do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. Who's the mark?" Alfred asked, jerking his head towards Lovino. Lovino snarled at him.

"None of your concern. Inform the help to come and collect my dishes in precisely an hour and go to your room," Arthur ordered, tousling the teenager's already mussed up hair.

"_Hey_, stop it! I'm goin'!" the boy laughed. The door slammed behind him, making Arthur wince.

"That boy doesn't know his own strength," Arthur sighed in resignation. He sat down at the table and smirked up at Lovino.

"You are fond of the child," Lovino stated, eyebrows rising.

"That is neither here nor there. You are here to give me a wish, siren," Arthur retorted.

"How did you know who I am? No one alive knows my appearance but Antonio and his crew. None of them would have spoken to you."

"I know much more than that, siren. Appearances are nothing. It's the _story_ that's important. A story about a siren that made a deal with his own Power for _love_. A story about a curse that will never be broken."

Lovino stared at him, visibly shaken. "If you wanted me, you could have come and gotten me at any time! Why now?"

"I didn't want to go looking for you if I could help it. Why waste the effort? But that _Spaniard_ on the other hand, how do you think he knew how to find you? I _planted_ that oafish bard in Tortuga months ago and waited for that _idiot_ to hear just the right song and do my dirty work for me. Brilliant, if I do say so myself." Arthur toasted the trembling siren with a playful rise of his glass.

"If you know the curse, then-"

"Oh, no, that Spaniard doesn't. I didn't include _that_ bit of the story. Who wants a real hero? No, I knew he'd do it for the gold. He's so bloody predictable, really," Arthur chuckled as he spoke.

"But if _you_ know, then why are you interfering? Antonio is most likely the only one to-" Lovino broke off, almost choking on his words. Arthur chuckled.

"Do you really think I _care_? I don't give a _damn_ about your pathetic curse. I have a wish and I want it granted. Saving your _soul_ won't get me what _I_ want. How rich! You honestly think a mortal could care? We're selfish, bloodthirsty, greedy creatures, we mortals. No one more so than a pirate. It's our life, our only purpose, to be such as that. Your absurd hope in that imbecilic Spaniard is ludicrous. He will let you down… in the end," Arthur counseled him nonchalantly. He twirled a forkful of pasta and held it up, smirking. "Hungry?"

"I wouldn't eat anything you gave me," Lovino snapped, hands curled into fists and his features drawn tight with disgust.

"Well, you _will_ be hungry, won't you? You and I will be going on a little trip soon. You will have to rely on me for food in the weeks to come," Arthur pointed out as he began to eat.

"Like hell we are! I am already in a contract, you bastard!"

"I know for a fact that the contract means nothing if a new contract is made. I took you from him. You are mine now, _siren_," Arthur retorted.

"You have to make a contract first. I refuse to make a contract with you!"

Arthur tutted, dipping bread into oil and taking a bite. "You don't have a choice. I will have that contract. Hmm, what was the leverage before? The death of that Spaniard? Well, I don't see why it still won't work now." Lovino's eyes narrowed, his mouth thinning, as bright green eyes cut at him. "I already hate that wanker and his frog cook and loudmouthed first mate. I would rather kill the prat myself, but an assassin is good enough if it means your cooperation. I refuse to dillydally in Italy. I want my treasure, siren."

"There's a price for everything," Lovino replied shortly. Arthur nodded.

"Of course. I am prepared to pay. I want to be a powerful magician, siren, unlike any other. My wish is to be the _ultimate magician_." Green eyes sparked and Lovino sweated lightly.

"That is…" Lovino looked away, hiding the sudden pallor of his skin. "That wish has a high price, pirate."

"Tell me."

"Memories." Lovino's voice was flat, hard.

"Memories of what?" Arthur asked, getting to his feet. Golden eyes in a pale face turned to him. "Tell me!"

"That boy's memories. The wish requires that boy's love for you."

Arthur froze, eyes wide. "Al-Alfred's… memories? His love? _What the bloody hell are you on about?_"

"Every moment you've spent together, every shared smile, every shared tear. Every word, every deed, every morning, noon, and night. He will remember nothing. You will stand before him and he will not see you. You could touch his hands, kiss his hair, even hold him to your heart and he would feel nothing, hear nothing. He will no longer love you, Arthur Kirkland, dread pirate captain of the _Last Revenge_. That is the price of magic," Lovino intoned, eyes burning.

A sudden movement and Lovino was sent crashing to the ground. He gasped aloud, confusion whirring in his mind. He slowly pushed himself up. His hand rose, shaking, to touch the throbbing ache on his cheek. Before the Brit's blow fully registered, a boot thudded into Lovino's shoulder. With a loud cry, he was flung to his back. He curled inward, trying to deflect more blows, but the boot returned, pressing down on Lovino's chest, pinning him to the floor like a bug. Furious green eyes glared down at him.

"_Change it_!"

"N-No," Lovino gasped. He groaned, grasping the slick leather in his hands, trying to lift it, trying anything to alleviate the weight on his chest. He'd assumed lungs when he made the contract with Antonio, and now they were slowly being crushed by his ribs. He choked, spittle falling to his chin.

"You will _change the contract!_ You could not have possibly known about Alfred until today! You _made_ that price! You _will_ change it, siren!" Arthur shouted as Lovino writhed and gasped.

"I-I c-can't-Argh!"

"_You will change it!_"

"FINE!" Lovino bellowed. The boot lifted at last. He gasped, sucking in gulp of air after gulp of air, coughing painfully. He curled around his chest, clutching at his rapidly beating heart.

"That's better," Arthur said, smirking as he sat down again. "Surely there is something _else_ that would work."

Golden eyes flared, hatred bright and hot in their depths. Arthur merely chuckled and sipped at the red wine. Lovino winced, slowly sitting up.

"Your humanity," he ground out hoarsely, his voice breathy and thin.

"You really must elaborate," Arthur replied, his green eyes flat and dark, though his tone was light.

"Kindness, compassion, trust, more of the like, all of it will be given to me. You must pay with your humanity. That is the price," Lovino snarled. Arthur frowned, swirling the blood-red contents of his glass as he considered. "Emptiness for magic. There cannot be both inside you."

"Kindness, compassion, trust… I really don't have much of any of those. I'm sure there is more to it, but what truly makes one humane? Is it my soul you're taking?"

"It is similar, but no. You will still have a soul. It will be crippled, but it will remain with you," Lovino answered. His eyes narrowed as Arthur set down the glass. The pirate had made the decision and Lovino could feel the power well between them. A feral, toothy grin grew over his face.

"I will-"

The door crashed open, causing Arthur jump to his feet and Lovino jerked his head around. His neck muscles screamed, and he flinched, but his wide eyes never left the tall figure in the doorway.

Antonio stood there, green eyes dark and livid, locked on Arthur's face. He seemed taller, darker, _different_. His lips, normally curved into his blithe smile, were twisted into a fierce snarl under low, dark brows. One hand was raised, the blunderbuss he always carried in his unwavering hand, pointed at Arthur's chest. For long, silent, breathless moments, Lovino didn't even see the second, smaller figure trapped in Antonio's embrace. The thin, blond boy, Alfred, was caught in the crook of Antonio's elbow, a long dagger placed against the thick vein under his jaw. The dagger was pressing into the skin, a deep crease in the boy's tanned flesh, but as of yet, no blood fell.

"Lovino, come here," Antonio ordered harshly. Lovino got to his feet quickly, before catching himself and dusting off the seat of his pants.

"Took you long enough, idiot," Lovino said, tossing back his head unconcernedly. The light of Arthur's oil lamp flared over the ugly bruise already darkening on his cheek and Antonio's mouth tightened into a thin line. Dark, furious eyes darted to Arthur.

"You shouldn't have taken him, Arthur."

"So angry. I'm impressed. I've never seen you quite like this," Arthur said coolly. Too coolly. His bright green eyes were pointedly not falling to Alfred's wide-eyed, panicked face.

"You hurt him, _puta_. You're lucky I don't shoot you right now," Antonio hissed as Lovino stepped up beside him.

"How'd you know to take the boy, Antonio?" Lovino asked, curiously. Antonio cut his eyes towards the siren, but quickly looked back at the Brit.

"The boy was sleeping outside the door on a pallet. He looked well-fed and wore clean, nice clothes. Arthur doesn't give a damn about anyone on his crew, but _this_ boy looks loved. It was completely by chance I found him, though. I was just going to barge in and start shooting and hoped you were as fast as you looked, Lovi," Antonio told him, grinning crookedly, though his eyes still flashed.

Arthur glared back at him, fists clenched. "Release the boy, Carriedo."

Antonio visibly winced, making Alfred cry out sharply as the dagger cut shallowly into his skin. Arthur made a stiff, jerky motion, but kept himself in place.

"I hate it when you try to say my name, _gringo_. It's _horroroso_," Antonio stated with a shudder.

"Arthur…" Alfred whispered.

"Do not move, Alfred. None of your stupid stunts. I do not care how strong you are, he has a pistol," Arthur ordered. Alfred began to nod, but quickly stopped.

"Yes, gov'nor," Alfred mumbled, grimacing when the dagger cut deeper.

"Lovino, walk down the steps and wait for me at the bottom. _Now, Lovino_," Antonio growled when Lovino began to protest. A shiver of fear raced down the siren's spine and he quickly turned to the doorway.

He paused, setting his hand on the doorjamb.

"Hey, Brit," he began, ignoring Antonio's low curse. "You should thank this Spaniard for saving what you hold most dear."

Silence reigned.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Arthur snapped, eyes on Alfred's bemused blue gaze.

"Our contract was almost sealed. If I had taken the price, you still would have lost what you were so terrified to lose, before and now. That boy loves you for what remains of your _heart_," Lovino explained, his voice soft and low, but carrying through the room. Alfred's eyes widened in shock even while Arthur's shoulders went rigid. "You were about to sell that for a few paltry magic tricks." Golden eyes met wide, horrified green. "You bastard, you almost sold away the only fucking thing that made you _human _and had no concept of the repercussions. Let your shitty dreams of magic die. The only true magic lives in that innocent boy." He turned and left.

Arthur tumbled to the ground, eyes wide. "What did I almost do?" he murmured, his face blanched bone-white.

"Arthur! Lemme go, ya Spaniard! Lemme go!" Alfred hollered, wriggling and ignoring the sharp pain in his neck. Antonio quickly dropped him, unwilling to slice the boy's throat on accident. Antonio watched, gaping, as the boy rushed over and wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders. "It's okay, Artie. I still love you, Cap'n. No magic can stop that. I promise," Alfred was whispering fervently.

Antonio shook his head and quickly retreated, sheathing his weapons as he did so. Whatever Lovino was talking about had rattled the Brit too much for him to sic his men on Antonio and Lovino now. He made it to the stairs where Lovino waited without a word being said from the room. He drew up short, relief flooding him in surging waves. Lovino looked up, his head tilted back, his slender neck arched. He really was the most beautiful creation Antonio had ever seen.

Golden eyes were glistening with tears, his mouth trembling.

"I was scared to fucking death, you idiot! Why the hell did you take so long? Huh? Where were you?" Lovino demanded, rubbing at his face to stop the tears he'd held back. He hissed when he put too hard a pressure on his cheek.

Antonio reached out and cupped his face gently, his thumb gliding over Lovino's smooth skin, over the shadow that darkened his cheek. His face was damp on Antonio's palm and fingers. Watching Lovino shake and cry was too painful to endure. The knowledge of why, of how close he came to losing Lovino forever to that sick British bastard, made his heart squeeze. He roughly pulled Lovino in his embrace, making the siren gasp, forgetting they were in the midst of his enemies; that just behind him his worst nemesis was sitting with a child and more than one sword ready to run through Antonio's back. All that mattered was Lovino was there, safe within the circle of his arms.

"You don't have to remind me, Lovi. As soon as I realized what happened I… I thought I'd go crazy. I _did_. I've never been so frightened and _angry_ before in my life," Antonio muttered, breathing in the sweet scent of Lovino's hair. He smiled at the petulant sniffle that answered him.

"Let's go. I want to bathe and eat, damn it!" Lovino mumbled into Antonio's coat.

"_Si, mi corazon, ven conmigo_," Antonio replied, smiling as he pulled away. He pressed his lips lightly to Lovino's bruised cheek and then led him down the stairs.

.

_Yeah, totally lied. I'm uploading now. ^^; I'm just so excited for this story that every time I end a scene I want everyone to read it right then! Besides, it's not like this is one my Fairy Tales. It can be shorter chapters if I WANNA! SO HA! Enjoy~ Chapter count has now gone up~ Who knows how long it'll be. _


	4. Faith

_Kitty: Okay, chapter four! XD … This story should be done by now! WHAT HAVE I DONE? I'm not going to be updating any of my other stories before the hiatus is over! Oh noes! I have OTHER fandoms to write for! Hetalia- no, Spamano! YOU EAT MY LIFE! I haven't even read the updates from MY favorite authors! _

_Ghostheart, SpiritMusician, AisuArisu, Anone9, Red eyes black phoenix, Mihakuu, Anamique4, Ichigo-the-Deathberry, TheFreakyTomboy: Thank you for your assortment of fave and alerts. Yup, that's right. I SEE YOU! *A*_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia =/= mine. Too bad._

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter Four

Faith

Lovino listened to the heartbeat beneath his ear, the gentle intake and exhale of breath. He opened his eyes slowly, golden irises glowing in the darkness of the cabin. Slim fingers trailed over the lines of muscle, up the dip of stomach, smoothing over the gentle bumps of rib, over flat chest, down the curve of arm. He loved Antonio's warmth, the rough scrape of hair that grew in a thin line from his belly button to low, _low_ on his abdomen, how smooth his skin was, how coarse his hands were. He loved to hear Antonio breathe.

It had to be Antonio.

And knowing that was terrifying. There was so much… so much resting on Antonio's shoulders, something so simple as a single choice, and the idiot _didn't even know!_

Lovino rose, leaning on one hand as he gazed down on Antonio's sleeping face. He sighed, his eyebrows furrowing over his nose, torn between amusement and disdain. The Spaniard's mouth was wide open, spittle slipping from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, a dopey grin tugging up the corners of his lips. Lovino finally caved, chuckling quietly, his shoulders high and tense and shaking, his brows still creased as if he were in some sort of pain even as he laughed.

These past weeks, almost two months now, (or was it more than that?) had been amazing, beautiful even. Every day Antonio had shown Lovino something new and exciting. Up in the crow's nest at dawn one day, sipping hot Turkish coffee; or watching the sunset the next; or, Lovino's favorite, in the middle of the night, the lantern making Antonio's eyes gleam like dark emeralds, as they stared up into the stars and Antonio taught him the constellations (like Lovino didn't already know). When they had their feet on the deck, Antonio showed him how to steer the ship, how the rudder and the tiller worked, how to tie knots and call commands out to the crew. Lovino had been surprised when the crew actually_ listened_ to Lovino's awkwardly hesitant shouts. He taught Lovino how to cook Spanish dishes- Lovino's favorite was paella- and how to read the maps and globe on his desk. In the privacy of Antonio's cabin, Antonio would sing for Lovino, instead of the other way around, and they would dance to Antonio's soft tenor serenading to Lovino with silly Spanish love songs.

It _had_ to be Antonio.

But how could Lovino tell him that? How could Lovino point Antonio to the right choice? To show him that something wonderful and amazing could happen if only Antonio were _different_ from everyone else? Lovino sighed again. He reached out, fingers trembling, to trace the arch of Antonio's cheekbone, the strong line of his jaw.

_I love you_, Lovino thought desperately, his mouth twisting into a painful scowl. _Please, make the right choice tomorrow, _amore mio_._

Antonio frowned, the gentle caress of Lovino's fingertips breaking through the fog of sleep. He swatted at his hand, chuckling deep in his throat as his eyes sluggishly opened.

"Tha' tickles," Antonio mumbled, blinking up at Lovino, who still hovered over him. He frowned again. Lazily he reached up and captured Lovino's face in his hands, the silky warmth of golden scales and olive skin on his palms. "What's wrong, _mi corazon_?"

Lovino shook his head. "It's nothing. Just go back to sleep."

"I don' wanna," Antonio pouted, pulling down, forcing Lovino nearer. Lovino gasped, eyes widening, startled. "You woke me up. I can't fall asleep and not have a kiss to send me back to sleep."

"You stupid-! I… My breath- _your breath_ fucking stinks! I bet you taste terrible, too! You're gross!" Lovino protested, trying to wriggle away unsuccessfully. Antonio let out a laugh.

"Kiss me first and _then_ you can tell me if I do," Antonio suggested, nuzzling Lovino's neck.

"I _hate_ you so much! Just go back to sleep, damn it!"

"Mmm, no," Antonio replied, now kissing his way up Lovino's throat to his jawline.

"Wh-What the hell are you doing? You need to get up in a few hours! We're going to be at that damned island and-" Antonio pulled Lovino's mouth down over his, effectively cutting him off. A long, spine-tingling moment later, they parted, both panting. Lovino glared, but settled himself over Antonio more comfortably, hands braced on his wide chest. "You taste disgusting."

"Of course," Antonio laughed, tugging him down for another kiss. It didn't end there. For some reason, Antonio didn't mind missing a few more hours of sleep if it meant a few more hours making love to Lovino.

Not that Lovino minded _too much_. In the back of his mind, he knew tomorrow could end it all. So he let himself fall under Antonio's spell once more… perhaps one last time. And he loved Antonio back earnestly, reacting and taking more than he ever had before, desperately hoping that each lingering caress was as meaningful and as memorable to Antonio as they were to him.

.

Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio stood at the starboard rail, staring at the surging and crashing waves not too far from them. The ship was rocking perilously, the salt spray stinging their faces and hands. Behind them, Lovino stood perfectly balanced on the swaying deck, arms crossed and face scowling. He knew exactly what was going on in their minds.

_How in the world is that possible?_

Huge, dark, soaking wet fingers of rock were churning the sea creating the wild waves as they spun around a tiny daub of rock where the treasure lay. Getting any closer could force their ship into the maelstrom, dash the little galleon against the logic-defying rocks, and plunge them all into the watery depths below. They were all silently wondering just _how_ they could get past this magical obstacle before them.

"Lovino, what is that!" Gilbert snapped, spinning around and pointing at the whirlpool. Lovino shrugged.

"The first test, of course. I'm not just going to fucking hand the treasure over. You wanted a damn journey. Here you go," Lovino retorted, rolling his eyes.

"How are we supposed to get past that?" Francis demanded, gripping the rail until his knuckles turned white. Behind the four, the rest of the crew were muttering under their breath, many of them white-faced or praying on rosaries.

"_That's_ not my problem, manslut," Lovino snapped.

"There's some space between each rock. We _could_ row a longboat through if we choose the strongest men to row…" Antonio mumbled, brows lowered over his nose as he stared at the circling rocks.

Gilbert scoffed. "Yeah, right! They're moving way too fast for rowers. Damn it!" He slammed his fist on the rail, snarling. "If we hadn't left Lutz behind, he would've come up with something. He's a genius at this kind of stuff!"

"We'll have to think of something without him,_ mon ami_," Francis said, sighing. "I'm sure if we think hard enough, we'll figure it out. Let's ask the men for ideas-"

Francis broke off, blinking, as Antonio pushed away and strode over the deck to the stairs. He leapt up the steps to the quarterdeck, hastening to the helm and grabbing his helmsman's bandana when he got there. The brightly checkered cloth streamed in wind, held aloft in his fist. Green eyes studied the direction, then glanced back to the island, before a wide grin spread over his face.

"Rico, take the ship around the island. We'll come through the south end of the island. The wind is northerly. Once we've come about the island, douse the sails and let the waves bring us in. _The men must stay on the yards_. MOVE IT!" Antonio bellowed.

"What are you thinking? We'll be smashed against those rocks, Tony!" Gilbert shouted, running up the steps, Francis right behind him. Lovino merely stepped to the railing, away from the surge of action on the deck, and gazed towards the island.

"I have a plan," Antonio replied cheerily, slapping the bandana back on Rico's sweaty head.

"I don't see how steering ourselves straight into certain death is a plan, _mon ami_," Francis retorted, sweat beading his brow and temples. Antonio patted his back, laughing.

"I have it completely under control. You'll see. _I SAID EVERY SAIL, MEN! GET THEM READY!"_ Francis winced as Antonio hollered right next to his ear.

Gilbert was already grinning, the thrill of near-death rising in his blood. "All right, Tony. Let me in on this."

It hadn't taken long to bring the ship around. In front of them, the rocks were roaring as they spun. Less than a minute of space was between each spur, and now the _Buscador_ was barreling towards the surging whirlpool, wood creaking and lines snapping in the wind. At least a half dozen men were sitting precariously up on the yardarms, holding tight to the rigging, muscles tense and shaking as the rolled sails were caught in the wind and began to tug and pull. As they neared the island, the wind got stronger, almost throwing men off their feet, and the dangerously perched men above almost toppled to their deaths.

"This won't work, Antonio! The sails will never be secured in time!" Francis shouted over the wind, his voice almost ripped from him.

Antonio held down his hat (he'd stolen it back from Gilbert), and grinned wildly. "Have a little faith, _mi amigo_!" Antonio called back. He glanced to where Gilbert sat on the main mast's yard, standing upright, gripping the mast and rigging, gazing towards the rocks ahead. "Gil will get it right."

"You're _insane!_" Lovino yelled, grasping Antonio's arm. He had come up as they rounded the island, his golden eyes wide with fear and shock. "What the hell are you thinking?" Antonio leaned over, placing his lips near Lovino's ear.

"Making the journey worth it," Antonio murmured. Lovino gaped at him, before punching him in the ribs.

"Lucky for you I _can't_ die in the ocean. Or else I'd fucking kill _you_ for this!"

Antonio only laughed, clutching his side in pain, as the ship lurched forward with the powerful surge of tide. Gilbert raised his hand as the boat swung from side to side, constantly buffeted on both sides by the wild waves that swelled over the deck, flooding the ship up to everyone's knees, before rushing over the other side, then having it happen again only moments later. Even the men on the yardarms were soaked to the skin, the continuous spray of water making everything slick and even more dangerous.

"NOW!" Gilbert's voice screamed through the wind, his arm coming down with a sharp chopping motion.

The sails dropped and men grasped the lines, slipping and sliding, but managing to keep their balance at they tied the rigging to the booms. The sails billowed, so full with the raging wind the seams stretched and the weave began to pull apart. The _Buscador_ dove forward as a rock passed in front of the very bowsprit of the ship. Men fell forward, many crying out as knees hit the wooden boards and others slid down the deck towards the prow. Cannons rocked, ropes straining and many slipping free, wheels squealing as they rolled over the slick wood. Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino's waist, holding him tightly, even though the siren probably had better balance than he did. Everyone looked to the starboard side, breath caught in every throat. The ship skidded over the turbulent waves, but the next rock was coming at them with startling speed. Lovino gasped and buried his face in Antonio's wet shirt, fists curled in the soaked crimson camlet of Antonio's long coat.

Just barely, the _Buscador_ surged past. The rock spur knocked against the very back of the stern, the loud, horrific sound of stone on wood, of ripping and scraping, as the ship wobbled and weaved. Antonio and Gilbert shouts rose together over the screaming of the wind and surf and the men hurriedly pulled with all their might. Finally, the mainsails were doused and secured to the yardarms, slowing the momentum of the ship as they neared the pebbly shore of the island. Antonio pushed Lovino away, kissed his temple absently, and then raced down the stairs, shouting orders and throwing his weight in with his men as they secured the remaining, smaller sails and the rigging that still waved and snapped in the wind dangerously. The anchor was dropped with a loud crash, the chain and rope rattling over the side of the deck until the anchor caught. Gilbert swung down on a loose line as soon as the sails were secured and helped retie the heavy cannons in place.

Lovino stumbled down to the quarterdeck, legs shaking. Immediately, a strong hand clasped his elbow and steadied him. He glanced up into dancing blue eyes set in a still rather pale face.

"Lost your balance, _sirène_?" Francis teased. Lovino jerked his arm away, scowling.

"Don't fucking touch me, manslut," Lovino mumbled. Francis laughed and bowed elegantly.

"Of course. You're not mine to touch, _non_? That is my dear friend's privilege. Not that I envy him. You'll break his heart in the end," Francis rejoined, his smile rather sharp as he spoke. Lovino gaped open-mouthed at him as Francis's eyes became serious. "Don't hurt him too badly, _sirène_." He bowed again and strolled towards the door that would lead him to the galley.

Lovino snarled at his back, then glanced towards the fast-approaching island, his arms crossing over his chest again. _Break his heart? Unlikely. The only one being in danger of that is me… and so much more… so much more will be broken…_ He sighed, his shoulders slumping as if weighted with an invisible burden.

The keel scraped along the pebbly bottom as they entered the shoal and men, including Gilbert, swung over the prow and sides of the ship, lines in hand, to stake the ship in place on the beach. Antonio paced over the decks, double-checking everything and telling his crew to go below and change into dry clothes, clapping them on the shoulder and grinning at them, confident and at ease now that they were beached safely. He called over the boatswain and on-board carpenter to see about the damage and repairs needed. As he waited for his men to come over, his eye caught the motionless, dejected figure of Lovino and he frowned. _What is wrong with Lovino?_ Antonio wondered, anxiety filling him like the life-threatening, island-circling rockspurs had not done. He remembered, then, the hazy features of Lovino hovering over him when he woke, those golden eyes sad and dark and… hiding something. Lovino was hiding something and Antonio had no idea what. _Is he… he's not going to betray-_ Antonio shook his head briskly. He couldn't believe that. He couldn't even finish the thought without something sick twisting in his innards like a snake. No, it was something else entirely.

He was distracted from his thoughts as the boatswain and carpenter came level with him, both with worried frowns on their faces.

.

The island could barely even be considered that. It was a small jut of rock encircled by a pebbly beach. There weren't trees or birds, not even debris from the ocean, like kelp, lay on the smooth, round, black pebbles that made up the shore. Ahead there was a dark opening in the pile of rock, which seemed to be the only destination.

Within the hour, Antonio and a small group of men were on the beach. He had left instructions with the rest of the crew to repair what damage they could to the stern. Luckily, the hull and keel remained intact and undamaged. The windows were lost, though. The group on land included four seamen, Francis, Gilbert, and Lovino. Even though Francis was "only the cook," he was Antonio's oldest friend, and, along with Gilbert, a man he trusted to watch his back. Lovino led the way up the beach, the strange lost look he wore earlier gone, replaced with his usual sneer. He ducked into the cave's mouth, waiting a few feet inside for the group to follow him. With a snap of his fingers, a golden ball of light appeared. A low humming sound, a hum that sounded like Lovino's voice, twined through the low, wide cavern. Before Lovino was an opening to a narrow path carved deeper into the rock. The walls were damp and uneven, untouched by man's tools, and a slow drip sounded in the depths, echoing weirdly. The bright light hovering over Lovino's hand cast strange shadows on the rough walls and over everyone's uncomfortable-looking faces. The siren turned to Antonio when everyone was ensconced inside, a dark scowl on his golden-hued face.

"Once inside I can only do so much. This is _your_ quest, Antonio. However, there is one thing I can tell you," here Lovino paused, his eyes meeting each man's directly until he returned his gaze to Antonio's. There, for a fleeting moment, that odd look that Antonio had seen in the dark hours before dawn. Lovino's gaze skittered away. "You must _trust_ me. If I tell you to do something, you must do it. If I turn down a corridor, you must follow, no matter what you see. If I tell you to drop your weapons, you _must drop them_. If you hesitate for even a moment, if you doubt even the smallest amount that I'm leading you truly, then it will spell your doom. Can you trust me?" Lovino demanded.

A few men squirmed, their gaze going to Antonio. His face, though, was inscrutable. He really had no idea what to think about Lovino's words, and he refused to sway his men's opinions with his own. Finally, Gilbert stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"I don't know if I can trust you, Lovino, but Antonio… Antonio's our captain. If he trusts you, then I will. I've trusted Antonio with my life a thousand times and, hell, I'm still here aren't I?" Gilbert grinned crookedly over at Antonio. "Lovino's right. This is _your_ quest and I follow _you_."

"Aye," muttered one man. The remaining three quickly repeated it, their voices gaining volume and confidence, making Antonio smile as well.

"That means a lot to me, Gil, Alvaro, Natal, Manuel, Chale," Antonio said, addressing each man individually with a smile. "And you, Francis?" Antonio inquired, turning to the Frenchman trying to hide the sudden shine in his eyes. Francis shrugged nonchalantly, that lazy, mysterious smile on his face that he donned so often, even if he had nothing to hide.

"I can't say I disagree. We've been through a lot together, you and I. I'd be a fool to forget that now, _oui_?" Francis replied. Antonio stepped forward and hugged Francis, slapping his back. He motioned Gilbert over and the three hugged, grinning.

"All together then?"

"_Ja_, there's no better way, Tony," Gilbert cackled, slapping Antonio's back so hard the Spaniard grunted. Francis glared at the German when he received similar treatment. They broke apart, all grinning and relaxed, as if they weren't heading into what obviously would be a magical trap. Lovino stared at them, eyes narrowed.

"Fine. Antonio, the _capitan_ of this stupid band, will you trust me?" Lovino snapped, fists on his hips. Antonio bowed to Lovino and easily snagged one hand, pulling the slender fingers up to his mouth. Lovino blushed bright red as Antonio's lips brushed his knuckles.

"I will always have faith in you."

"Sh-Shut the hell up!" Lovino stammered, yanking his hand free. "You don't have to be so damn…. damn… _theatrical!_"

Antonio chuckled softly. Lovino spun on his heel and stormed into the narrow passageway, his tiny golden ball of light bobbing along behind him. With a motion of his raised hand, Antonio's men fell in line behind him, Gilbert bringing up the rear and Francis directly behind Antonio. A few men already had their daggers drawn, and Gilbert had his dully gleaming cutlass in hand. Francis preferred his pistols, but it'd be stupid to draw them now in such narrow confines as this path, so he kept his hands as close to his belt as he could. Antonio had his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, strolling after Lovino completely relaxed and unperturbed.

.

_All right. Chapter four done. I figured I'll drag this plot along for a while. Keep y'all coming back for more. My darling Lian-kun said she was sad it would be coming to end so quickly, so… I made it less quick. =w=b Don't y'all just LOVE ME? *w* LOVE ME!_


	5. Choice

_Kitty: Riiiight, so I do have reasons to the past WEEK without an update. Many of them are good ones. I don't write on Sabbath (Friday sunset to Saturday sunset). I was baptized this past Sabbath! And I went to a motorcycle ministry meeting and was officially voted in! XD There was more before that… But mostly, I'll admit it, I've been procrastinating so. Darn. Hard. I have NO IDEA what to do in this chapter. Like, I do… but… *head desk* It fails so hard. Let's see what happens, shall we?_

_Disclaimer: No owning of the Hetalia. (Now I remember why I stopped doing this. It just hurts more every time… ;3;)_

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter Five

Choice

Antonio was conflicted. Again. Ever since the amazing, beautiful, absolutely-mind-blowing tempest that was Lovino had entered his life, he hadn't really stopped being conflicted. The best thing that had ever happened to him, the most incredible gift he had ever received, was the contract with this golden siren whom glared and cursed and whispered Italian to him in the dark, late hours of the night.

_The greatest treasure_…

What exactly did that mean anyway? Antonio couldn't imagine anything like that. The journey had already been wondrous. Yes, there was that ordeal in Siracusa, but even then Antonio and Lovino had only gotten closer because of it (behind closed doors, of course). There was a hazy image of gold, of sparkling gems, of a ridiculously ornate throne (of all things), but nothing definite.

What could be more precious than what was blossoming between him and Lovi? _Mi corazon_- it wasn't by chance he used that endearment. And it wasn't one he used often. His heart was lost to Lovino, completely and utterly. Antonio had waited all his life to find this feeling, this _love_ that was so hard to contain, and he regretted nothing.

But he would. He would regret the end of this journey. He would regret not having Lovino with him all his life.

What does one give to a _siren_ though? Lovino was beautiful, a being made of gold and magic, far beyond any mortal ken. Surely Lovino could have whatever mortal he wanted, male or female, more beautiful and more powerful and wealthier than Antonio, the Spanish pirate. More than anything though, why would Lovino want _Antonio the mortal at all_? Yes, Antonio was a fun lover. He wasn't being immodest when he said he was a damn good one. He _was_ a Spaniard after all. It was in his blood. However, nothing, not the best kisses in the whole world, could change the fact he was a _mortal_ and Lovino was not.

Antonio would grow only older. He would become weaker, lined with wrinkles, grey-haired, and frail. He could lose his sight, his hearing, his dashing good looks, in just a few years- compared to Lovino's unending amount of years, that is. Soon enough, Antonio would have to retire from his life of piracy and he had always planned to buy a little plot of land in Spain, grow tomatoes, have a few cats, have a lot of children. There used to be a pretty Spanish woman with a lovely smile in this distant ideal of his, but now, he couldn't image anyone sharing his life other than Lovino. Beautiful, golden Lovino.

_There'll be no other you'll want, no other to satisfy._

And didn't Antonio know it.

Of all the treasure that could ever be thought of, nothing could compare to Lovino. Antonio had already found his greatest treasure. And for the rest of his life, he'd have to live without him. What could he give Lovino to induce him to stay? To love Antonio in return? And did Antonio even _want_ that? Did he want Lovino to see him grow old and decrepit and boring while Lovino remained young and enchanting? The very thought of Lovino's gaze becoming disgusted when he looked at Antonio gave the Spaniard chills. He had nightmares about it once, had awoken in the dim dawn light with Lovino curled against his side as he wheezed and panted and cold sweat dripped down his temples, soaking his hair and pillow. No… anything but that.

Antonio followed Lovino into the dark depths of the cavern, uncaring where they were headed or what they'd have to face, because it just meant he could spend more moments, precious time, drinking in the sight of Lovino. As if he felt Antonio's intense stare, Lovino turned, looking over his shoulder as he walked. Bright eyes glowed in the magic light, widening when their gazes locked. So much unspoken shimmered between them- like the soft shine of magic that throbbed as if it had a pulse. And then the world broke into fragments of colors and everyone gasped aloud.

The group stopped dead, all murmuring and gaping as their heads swivelled around. The passage had opened into a huge cave, the ceiling so high it was impossible to see. Before their feet uneven, slick stairs were carved into the rock leading down into a vast maze of straight and smooth walls that looked as if they were made of mutely glimmering gold. However, the truly stunning part was the cavern itself. Large, flawless gems grew down in points above their heads like stalactites, burst through the rough rock walls like flowers, bulged up from under their feet. Somehow, sunlight had found its way from the surface and shined through the gems overhead so ruby, emerald, sapphire, amethyst, diamond, and many, many more glittered so brightly they almost blinded the small group of men. They blinked rapidly, rainbow-hued spots dancing in their vision as Lovino waited, his foot tapping again. He was looking more and more agitated and the earlier moment of connection he'd shared with Antonio was gone. They all gathered around him, waiting expectantly.

"You must not touch anything! Whatever you see in that maze, whatever you hear, whatever you _so much as smell_, it is not yours. I will lead you to the heart, but you must trust me, as you promised. The true treasure lies in the heart," Lovino told them sternly.

Antonio's breath caught in his throat at Lovino's choice of words. But Lovino did not turn his way or make any indication that his words were meant for Antonio in some special way.

They made their way down the steps carefully, their smooth soled boots lending them little traction on the damp rock. They entered the maze after a few, dangerously tottering minutes later, their chins to their knees and eyes bugging out from their sockets. The walls, more than a foot thick, _were_ made of solid gold. Their footsteps echoed weirdly, refracting back with a sound as if a thousand more feet were shuffling with them. They gaped as they passed the walls, breath caught in their throats. On the walls around them strange shapes were carved, covered by a sheer, golden lacquer. The shapes twisted and deformed, becoming grotesque and yet mesmerizing. More than one man stopped dead, eyes glued to the cavorting figures with limbs and wings and animal heads all writhing and dancing and reaching out, until another seaman pulled the entranced man away. Lovino moved through the maze without hesitation, merely scowling at the gross engravings. As he turned left, another branching opened to the right and the gentle sound of waves lapping on a shore was brought to their hearing.

"Lovino, come, bring your men over here to play."

"How selfish to keep such handsome men all to yourself."

Silky, seductive voices sang from the open corridor, teasing, mocking, taunting. Antonio glanced towards the voices, startled that others were down here, women by the sound of it, too. Startled, also, by the sound of the sea on a beach. Every footstep halted before Antonio could even process the scene in front of him. A large group of naked, beautiful women, with scales like Lovino's in every gem's shade glittering up and down their bodies lounged on golden couches heaped with satin-wrapped pillows. Long, shining hair slid over lithe, smooth limbs, hiding yet attracting the men's eyes to the secret places of a woman's body. The women sirens smiled at them, bright jewel eyes hot and intense, long lashes fluttering flirtatiously. Fine, white sand was spread out beneath them, ending where crystal blue water foamed just beyond the legs of their couches. The water of the lagoon in which they waited began at the group of seamen's feet, the sandy bottom seen clearly, showing it at barely knee-depth. The siren's giggled and crooned, beckoning with their hands for them to come.

"Come play with us. We're a lot more fun than cranky old Lovino," teased one with black hair that fell like a waterfall of ink over her pale shoulders. Lovino snapped at her in Italian, making them all laugh, their voices like the chiming of bells.

Francis groaned under his breath and Antonio quickly grabbed his shoulder. Gilbert also had to smack a couple of the seamen on the back of the head to bring them out of their stupors.

"Let's go," Antonio murmured to Gilbert. They succeeded in dragging the hypnotized men away with just a _little_ difficulty and a lot of curse words.

Lovino waited for them, scowling. "Keep your eyes on _me_. You're lucky nothing _worse_ happened, you fucking idiots."

"You'll have to excuse our weaknesses as men,_ sirène_. Unlike _some_, we had not a steady diet of romance these past months," Francis replied wryly, shaking the wooziness from his brain.

Lovino blushed brightly, then spun on his heel and stormed away. Chuckling, Antonio led his men after him. They left the siren women behind and it became slightly easier going. Glimpses of mouth-watering feasts, wild dances and strains of throbbing music, hallways and rooms filled with treasures flashing temptingly just beyond their peripheral vision; but they did not turn aside. The closest call was the returning of voices what seemed like hours later, though most likely they had only been beneath the surface less than sixty minutes. These voices, though, were very unlike the tantalizing summons of the sirens.

As they crossed an intersection of corridors, light dimmed to a dull, pulsing red. The glimmers from the gem-studded cavern ceiling broke through the gloom occasionally, the dancing lights startling and blinding in their penetrating beauty before whisking away a mere heart beat later. Then, the disturbing sound of distant crying and begging and howls of pain. At first, they were ignored, only goosebumps travelling down each man's spine any indication that they even heard the distressing sounds. Then, Gilbert stopped, his shoulders high and tense. One man, Chale, cried out in surprise and fear and the remaining three men paled considerably. Voices that each man recognized intimately were calling for help.

"Lizzie, Friedrich," Gilbert moaned.

Antonio and Francis glanced at each other in confusion. Neither could pick out a distinct voice like the other men could. Francis, an orphan like Antonio, had no family and no true lover, just many flings. Antonio was standing next to the people he held dearest. Thus, the magic hadn't worked on either of them. Both could only hear, albeit chilling, sounds of unfamiliar voices wailing in terror and pain. Gilbert turned to the pitch black path, sword gleaming red, as if already soaked in blood.

"That's Lizze and Freddy," he exclaimed, eyes wild and pupils dilated with panic and fear-induced rage.

"Gilbert! Chale! All of you- _Ay Dios mio_, you will _hold!_" Antonio bellow, pushing past the men to grasp Gilbert's sword arm.

His voice rang clear and resonant against the golden, palpitating walls. The men halted, turning to him with wide, desperate eyes. Gil's mouth was curled into a mutinous snarl.

"I have to go, Tony. Maybe you don't know what it's like to love someone more than you love yourself, but _I do_. That's my wife and son!"

No one noticed Lovino's sharp wince, but Antonio glared back at Gilbert, his face blanching.

"Gil… why would Isa and Rico be _here_?" he whispered, shaking Gil's arm and using the names he'd dubbed Gilbert's family with as a joke long ago. "All of you, how could your loved ones be _here_? It's just a magic trick," a slight, confused hesitation followed his words and Gil's snarl faded. "You swore to trust me," he reminded them with a smile to each man. Slowly, the men relaxed.

Gil shook his head and then chuckled, finally sheathing his weapon. "Magic is a pain in the ass."

Lovino's sharp laughter rang out. It was nothing like the shy chuckle, or the bright, deep laugh Antonio had so seldom coaxed out of him. It cut like knife through the air. "You have no idea." He jerked his head over his shoulder. "Hurry the hell up. We're almost to the heart," he told them.

Once again they trooped after him. Antonio frowned and clutched his shirt over his chest. _I don't want this to end._

And suddenly it was like sunshine. Around them was dazzling, yellow light. They stepped out of the maze into a large open area. The maze dissolved as Gilbert stepped out last, vanishing into nothing as if it had never been. A dark, narrow corridor was at Gilbert's back, and the light from the beach outside spilled into the open-roofed cavern. If it could be called a cavern.

Drapes of raw silk hung from silver hooks drilled deep into the rock face. They swayed in a soft breeze and harps and chimes and bells were played softly by the gentle caressing fingers of the sea wind whistling faintly within the cavern. Beautifully woven rugs and tapestries were spread over the rock or hung among the off-white drapes. Beds and couches of fragrant woods and worked metals carved and twisted into ornate designs were spread out over the room. Chests lay open everywhere, so full their contents were spilling out the top- gems as big as a grown man's fist, doubloons of gold and silver, jewelry of particularly fine craftsmanship, craftsmanship that could not have been made by human's hand, scrolls and leather bound books filled with arcane knowledge and maps to worlds previously undiscovered or hidden by time or space, and garments of every rich, brilliantly colored fabric. Piles and heaps of gold bars and coins and figurines of every precious metal, ivory, glossy woods, even cut from flawless, shining gems lay scattered like precious sand, glittering and sparkling wherever they turned their eye. Weapons lay on racks and wooden tables: intricately wrought pistols of wood and brass or silver, pikes and spears, cutlasses and Eastern scimitars, long daggers and boot daggers, halberds and axes, sheathes of finely tooled leather, some encrusted with gems and expensive metals. In the very middle sat a high throne made of cedar wood so polished and oiled that it shone as smooth as silk. The back and seat were fitted with over stuffed cushions of impossibly bright crimson, and Antonio laughed out loud to see it, an odd, grating sound to his laughter.

"Wh-what is all this?" Gilbert gasped.

"_This_ is the treasure?" Natal choked out, unable to believe it.

"_Mon Dieu_," Francis breathed.

Lovino stepped into the huge room and turned to them. His face was blank, completely unreadable even to Antonio, and he spread his arms out wide.

"Congratulations, men of the _Buscador Dorado_. You are the first to actually make it to the end of the journey. No one had made it this far. You can take however much you can carry to the ship. When you pass through the passage behind you, you will walk onto the beach. You can only pass through once, but all the men you left behind may come here and take their share as well. Choose your bounty _wisely._ If you are too greedy, you will sink beneath the cavern floor, buried with your gold and jewels for all eternity."

Each man shuddered at the gruesome punishment, but their anxiety fled almost immediately moments later as they stepped cautiously into the room.

"We will make sure the other men know the rule. Thank you,_ sirène_," Francis said with a low, elaborate bow. Lovino snarled at him and stepped to the side.

"Antonio, there is one more task for you," he said as the other men rushed past into the room. Lovino gazed at Antonio curiously as he spoke, his head tilting to one side. He had expected Antonio to be excited, exuberantly so, but Antonio had not said a word since he entered the cavern and laughed. Instead, he stood there, hands hanging uselessly at his side, as bright green eyes stared at the treasures spread out before him. "Antonio! You fucking bastard, pay attention!" Lovino snapped.

Antonio started, then laughed again, more truly this time. He approached Lovino, and leaned over him, kissing his creased forehead. "Excuse me, Lovi. I was… amazed to speechless." Lovino squinted at him, his frown darkening further.

"Speechlessness."

"How very British of you. You spent too much time with that _gringo, mi corazon,_" Antonio joked. Lovino punched him in the gut, making him gasp.

"I said I had something to say to you, damn it! Shut the hell up!"

"I'm listening! I'm listening, _mi corazon_," Antonio wheezed both in pain and laughing.

"You have one more task. In all this room there is only _one_ treasure for you. The greatest treasure in the world. A treasure that was worth your journey. You must find it and claim it as yours," Lovino told him, that strange emotion flickering in the bright, golden depths of his eyes.

"And… and if I choose wrong?" Antonio asked, his eyes searching Lovino's, desperately wishing he could _know_ what that emotion was, wishing he could say what he truly wanted.

"You will… you will lose it forever," Lovino muttered, his voice breaking slightly. He stepped back, his eyelids falling to cover his sight. "Choose wisely, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

Antonio stared at his downturned face wordlessly. He slowly raising his hand to stroke Lovino's soft, dark brown hair, but he clenched his fingers into a fist before rapidly striding away.

.

It had been hours. Or maybe it had been minutes. Antonio really had no idea. He had gone through every damn piece of treasure in this cavern but _none_ of it was worth more than his time with Lovino. None of it was comparable to the feelings he had been trying to bury deep into his heart, unspoken for the rest of his life. How could anything replace these days? He couldn't pick something! He couldn't end it at last! His heart was already breaking thinking about how soon he would lose his beloved Lovino forever.

He had long since given up and was sitting on a carpet so blue it put the deep sea to shame. He was bent over, his knees drawn around his ears, his fingers tangled into the thick thatch of his hair, twisting tightly. He was probably pulling his hair out by the roots, and it was also probably rather painful, but Antonio didn't even notice. He was staring at the thick wool carpet beneath his boots, too focused on wondering just _what_ he was supposed to do. He needed to find the treasure. He couldn't stay here, indecisive, dragging on the inevitable, while his men, men whom depended on him, waited.

How could he choose _one thing_ which would mean the end of what was most precious to him?

Francis walked up to him and knelt, his hand on Antonio's shoulder. "Antonio, _mon ami_, I know this is hard for you, but you must choose soon. The last of the men has left, and only you, Gilbert, and myself remain here… with Lovino, of course," Francis looked up to where Lovino sat on the outskirts of the cavern, his back against the rough rock wall, as silk billowed around him.

Antonio's shoulders tensed at Lovino's name, but he didn't look up.

"Ah_, mon ami_, you must let him go." A soft sound, almost like a pained groan escaped Anotnio before he managed to bite it down. "He is a siren. This was always going to be the end. You cannot have a happy ending with an immortal."

"But what is worth more than…" Antonio broke off, shuddering, before covering his face with his hand. "There's nothing I can choose."

"Hey, Franfran, Tony, we gotta get going!" Gilbert called as he stuffed just _one_ more pretty pistol in his pocket for Lizzie and eyed a miniature ship in a large, clear bottle. He shrugged and shoved it under his arm to take.

"_Oui_, just one more moment!" Francis called back. He turned back to Antonio and stroked his hair, smiling sadly. "There's not much advice I can give you. I have yet to love someone… not the way Gilbert loves his Lizzie, or the way you love your siren. But, Antonio, stop comparing your feelings to gold and treasures. There _isn't_ anything worth more than those feelings. Maybe you should just realize that _memories_ are important. You will never forget the way you feel, and would you ever want to, as much as it hurts?"

"N-No… I'll never forget…" Antonio muttered, finally raising his head. He smiled at Francis, his eyes shining wetly. "Thanks, Francis."

"Any time_, mon ami_," Francis replied, kissing his temple gently. "Now, make your decision. Remember, you have at least another three months to make more memories with him." The blond got to his feet and walked away, picking up the silk bag he'd filled with what he wanted- mostly clothes and fabrics. "We'll wait for you by the passageway," he told Antonio with a cheerful wave over his shoulder.

Antonio grinned, waved back, and finally got to his own feet. He patted off his breeches automatically, his eyes searching, and quickly finding, the mostly hidden form of Lovino. The siren had one arm propped up on his knee, the other leg stretched out over the carpet in front of him. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, his slender neck looking so tempting even from this distance. If only Antonio could capture him, capture the memories of them and hold them in place for eternity. But more than that, he wanted that moment, distilled in time, to remain with Lovino throughout his whole existence. He wanted Lovino to remember Antonio, as he was now, even after Antonio was dead and dust. _That_ was truly the greatest treasure, to be remembered by Lovino forever.

Antonio's eyes lit up.

He knew exactly what he would get.

.

Lovino's eyes fluttered open as footsteps raced towards him. Breath catching in his chest, he directed his gaze towards the brightly grinning Spaniard that skidded over woolen and fur carpets to stop in front of him.

"I chose!" Antonio gasped out, bending forward and clasping his knees as he panted. "I found it, the greatest treasure."

Lovino stared at him, eyes wide. As hard as he looked, he did not see any treasure on Antonio, no chest held in his hand, no stupid, silly crown on his head, nothing. He swallowed nervously, his hands damp, as hope burgeoned in his heart.

"What… did you choose, _capitano_?" Lovino asked, forcing his tone to sound neutral.

"Memories," Antonio said, with a grin. "I don't ever want to forget what happened. No gold or silver could compare to this journey with you. But more than that, I don't want you to forget me. You're immortal, and when you leave me, you'll forget me after a while. And… And I won't be able to remind you. I want you to carry me with you, forever. That's the greatest treasure to me," he said, holding out his hand. On his palm lay a golden chain, a ruby pendant shaped into a heart hanging from it. As he let the chain drop, dangling from his fingers, the ruby heart fell open to reveal it was the facing on a golden locket, the inside lined with black silk.

"Do you think you can fit a portrait of us in here? I'm sure we can find a painter in Siracusa and commission one for you before we return you to your brother!" Antonio told him, grinning.

Lovino stared at the locket, then, slowly, his gaze travelled up to Antonio's face.

"You stupid… you… you stupid _bastard!_" Lovino snapped. He jumped to his feet, making Antonio fall back.

"Wh-what? What did I-"

"What did you _do_? _What did you do? How about what you didn't fucking do, you idiot! You bastard! You were so damn close!_" Lovino screamed as the drapes snapped and flailed around them, the wind suddenly a surging gale. Francis and Gilbert were already running towards them, shouting, but their voices were lost in the wind that pushed and shoved them, slowing them down.

"Lovi, I don't understand," Antonio shouted as he clasped Lovino's shoulder. His eyes widened, moisture pulled from his tear ducts as the wind whipped at his face. Tears, not from the wind, were streaming down Lovino's cheeks as he glared fiercely.

"You fucking _coward!_ You could have chosen… you could have chosen more than memories! You could have had so much fucking more! And now you'll never see me again. Remember our contract, Antonio, because now you are stuck, alone and pathetic for rest of your sorry fucking life, with your_ precious fucking memories _of what you almost had! Damn you, Antonio, damn you! Damn all mortals for not understanding that it's the heart that truly matters, fuck the consequences."

"Wait, Lovino, please, you don- _Lovino?_" Antonio gasped as the siren's body began to glow.

"I'm leaving, Antonio. You chose wrong, and so your treasure will be lost to you forever," Lovino whispered, shaking under Antonio's hands. "How could you have fucked up? I trusted you, Antonio. I was so sure… I was so sure it would be you."

And he was gone.

Antonio stared at his empty hands as the wind died. Suddenly, the three men were standing in a bare cave, dripping sea water onto their heads. Gilbert and Francis drew up level with Antonio, both wide-eyed and confused.

"What the hell happened?" Gilbert choked out, clutching the ship-filled bottle in his hand. The treasure each men held hadn't disappeared, only that which had been left unclaimed.

From Antonio's hand hung the chain and locket. Useless. Empty of the memories he had chosen and lost.

"L-Lovino… what have I done?" Antonio croaked as he fell to his knees. He clasped his head, fingers digging into his scalp. "How could I know? How could I know he was a choice? _What have I done, Lovi?_" He pressed his forehead to the stone floor and let his tears fall, his teeth gritted so hard they squeaked, as his shoulders shook.

Gilbert and Francis stood to the side, unspeaking and uncomfortable, letting Antonio sob silently. There was nothing anyone could do now. And the repercussions of Antonio's choice hadn't even yet fully sunk in.

.

_Kitty: __**THIS IS NOT OVER! IT WILL NOT BE COMPLETE UNTIL I CHANGE THE STATUS TO COMPLETE!**__ *goes off to wail and crey* Whyyyy, Antonio, whyyyy?_


	6. Price

_Kitty: I plan on posting this one a lot faster to make up for the week-long wait for the last chapter. Also, I know most of you want to kill me right now. TROLOL! I've never been so good with cliffhangers before! AHAHAHAHA!_

_Music used for inspiration: You Were Mine by Dixie Chicks, What Hurts the Most by Cascada, My Heart is Lost to You by Brooks and Dunn, Need You Now by Lady Antebellum, Every Breath You Take by Police. (Yes, I intended to rip my own heart out. Thank you.) _

_Disclaimer: I don't own it. Tch. How annoying._

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter 6

Price

Tortuga was the neutral island off the coast of Spain that harbored thieves, runaway slaves and criminals, too many harlots, always enough booze, and pirates. No matter nationality, anyone could disappear into the rollicking streets of Tortuga and never be found again. It was a place of danger, adrenaline, and a very good time. Normally the crew of the _Buscador_ enjoyed their months at the pirate nest island. Many men would find passage to Spain and visit family, and others had their families right there on Tortuga. They had passed the months on land relatively content, but always aching to get back on the _Buscador_, their true home, and return to the high seas with their_ capitan_.

But not this time. _Buscador Dorado_, one of the best Spanish galleons in port, with a crew that hundreds of sailors had tried to join in the past, was landlocked. It had been landlocked, actually, for _three years_. Ever since she returned to Tortuga, loaded with unimaginable treasures and whispers of magic, she had not set sail again. Her captain, Carriedo, had disappeared into his first mate's house on the outskirts of Tortuga and was never seen again, though the crew repeatedly confirmed he lived. In a manner of speaking. And while the crew was undamaged, and the _Buscador_ in prime condition, the captain, the first mate, and the French cook were rarely seen in public anymore. Well, the captain never seen.

Gilbert would appear and get rip-roaring drunk, cause a huge amount of damage and get into fistfights for no reason; which really wasn't too out of character, if it weren't for the raging grief in his eyes and the sudden collapsing to the ground afterwards as he sobbed. Elizaveta would always be there when he collapsed and take him home, whispering to him softly in a mixture of Hungarian and Austrian-accented German. It was obvious the man was tearing himself apart with guilt over the mysterious disappearance of his younger brother. On his more morose days, he would get drunk early in the day and tell anybody he could corner about his adorable, amazing, brilliant, little brother until Elizaveta or Francis came to drag him away.

Because they had not returned Lovino to the island, they had no way of getting back there. Lovino had told them that without him, they could not bargain for Ludwig's release. Not the least was the fact that Antonio was in no condition to head an expedition of that kind, either. Without anyone to blame but himself, because Gilbert was too good a man to beat his friend while he was already down, the albino Prussian's guilt only festered and grew worse. Not the baby girl, Wilhelmina, waiting for him when he landed was enough to bring him out of it, nor the small boy born just months before now. Many people had wondered why Elizaveta hadn't named the new baby after Gilbert's obviously dead brother, to honor him, and instead named him Elik, a Hungarian name.

"Ludwig isn't dead, so why should I act like it?" had been her answer to anyone's direct questioning. Gilbert had lit up the first time she said that, laughing uproariously and kissing her in the middle of the street in a rare show of his old exuberance, but it didn't lift his guilt for very long. Especially as the more Elik grew, the more like Ludwig he appeared. He had neither his of parents' coloring, but instead the bright blond hair and blue eyes of his uncle. Whenever anyone mentioned it, Gilbert would point out the fact the baby had his mother's sweet, smiling mouth, which made Elizaveta blush to her toes, but Gilbert was always too angry to be embarrassed by his own words. Most people had learned not to say anything.

Francis was convinced he was to blame for Antonio's choice in the cave. _He_ was the one that told Antonio their love was impossible, that he could never be happy with an immortal. Because he had told Antonio to let the siren go, instead of trusting in his feelings, Antonio had lost the love of his life, his will to even _care_, and Gilbert had lost his beloved younger brother. Francis left for France for two years, but had recently returned, haggard and thinner than he'd ever been before, but trying with all his strength to help pull Antonio out of his misery.

But after three years, Antonio was only getting worse. Most days, he simply sat on his bed, staring at the empty locket, or tossing a large glass orb from hand to hand. Every now and then, Elizaveta would get him to smile or talk at some length and every day she brought her children to cheer him up. But he hadn't laughed the entire time he'd been back. He hadn't even gone out to his ship. He _doted_ on the _Buscador_, treated it like it was a living thing. Before, when they were landed for the winter and spring months of the worse storms, Antonio was always out checking on his ship, eyeing sails and ropes and wood for any rot or tearing, sometimes sleeping in his captain's quarters and plotting courses for new adventures. He _loved_ his ship. But he hadn't set foot on its deck in three years, hadn't even walked by and taken a peek. Only his crew's devoted attention to the _Buscador_ had kept her in good condition.

And so the crew waited. Again and again they gathered on the _Buscador'_s deck, drinking or singing, keeping her clean and tidy, going down into the city to spend their excess of gold, all while they prayed and hoped their _capitan_ would return to his old, smiling, cheerful self and take them out on the sea again. Some talked about joining other crews, or just retiring, but they were merely words quickly tossed aside. And the waiting continued.

Well, Elizaveta wasn't one to wait. In fact, she had _never_ just sat around and waited for anything in her life. She was the kind of person who focused on a goal and remained focused, forcing anything in her path out of the way, until she got exactly what she aimed for. She never looked back and she refused to regret. Regret only led to despair. And now Antonio, a man she held very dear to her heart, the best friend of her husband, was slowly wasting away because of despair. So she was going to do something about it.

Elizaveta knew pain and suffering. Knew them all too well. Gilbert wasn't her first husband. In fact, Friedrich wasn't even her first son. She had come from a well-to-do family in Hungary, a noble family whose lineage had traced back to the time of the Ostrogoths. However, with the alliance of Austo-Hungary, many Hungarians lost their noble titles, even their wealth and lands. Hungarians were looked down on as savages by the Austrians, despite the link of the kingdom's name. That didn't stop Elizaveta from falling in love with an Austrian count. Her family was still wealthy enough that they were allowed on the outskirts of the greater society. At a ball, she had glimpsed the beautiful Count Edelstein. She had been more than pleased and surprised when he'd asked her to dance less than a week later at another ball they both attended. Despite resistance from his family, Edelstein had proposed. That year of being his wife had been one of the most glorious years of her life, but it had been cut cruelly short. Barely three months pregnant, she had walked in on her husband, always frail and sickly, coughing into a handkerchief until blood splattered the lace-trimmed linen. The next five months had been a terrible blur of grief as his health rapidly declined and he died, just a few weeks before his first child, a son she had tearfully named Roderich in his honor, had been born. The funeral had been a dizzy haze and she was still reeling from birth four months later, when his family, always opposed to Edelstein's regard for her, had come with lawyers and soldiers and demanded her to leave.

Edelstein had set up a Last Will and Testament that declared her the sole guardian of his first born child, regardless of gender. The lands and estates were entailed to his child, since she'd borne a son, and therefore were under Elizaveta's ownership until Roderich came of age. But the Edelstein family declared the papers a forgery and forced her to leave and took her infant son from her. She barely escaped with the true will in her possession. Unable to return home, too proud to return in disgrace and unwilling to make it easy for her husband's family to hunt her down for the true will, she'd joined in with a caravan of Romanian gypsies. Serghei, the head of the clan she'd joined, and she had a horrible first impression, but in the end had an uneasy truce of mutual dislike and respect. With them, she'd finally reached Tortuga, three years later. She met Gilbert then.

He'd been drunk off his butt, reeling down the street when he almost mowed her over. When she snapped at him, he snickered in the most annoying fashion and offered her a huge amount of money to bed him. She'd punched him… and then beat him senseless. The next day, he'd approached her, covered in bruises and bandages, barely able to see out one eye, with a handful of scraggly flowers. The fact that he'd tried to apologize had astonished her, though it didn't stop her from kicking him in the balls when he ended said apology with "you should be honored I thought you were awesome enough to be my whore." They'd become uneasy friends, until they'd bonded over beer one night and she spilled to him her life story. He vowed to get enough money to help her track down a famous lawyer and win her son back, and even repeated the offer when sober the next day. She'd kissed him in the middle of the street and they'd been lovers ever since. When she told Gilbert she was pregnant, he'd taken her, in the middle of the night, to the _Buscador_, where the whole crew waited with lit torches, and had Antonio marry them, since there weren't any reliable Catholic priests around. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could remember the smell of jasmine, the look of embarrassment, joy, and terror in his red eyes as he stammered out his vows, the feel of his fingers on her chin before he kissed her much more sweetly than he'd ever done before.

Now, eight years later, they had three beautiful children and a good home (right outside a pirate's den of a city, but well), and enough gold that her dream of winning back her son was almost a reality. But how could she remind Gilbert of that promise with a missing brother, a heart-broken best friend, and a guilt-ridden other best friend? She wanted her family, her _whole_ family, to be happy and she was going to make it happen.

Magic started this mess and magic would surely fix it.

One night, a young woman, a woman of a brothel Elizaveta often visited to dispense medicine and reading lessons, came to the stoop. When Elizaveta heard the message, her sleepy eyes widened and she grinned fiercely.

The _Last Revenge_ was in port at last.

.

Her informant told her Captain Kirkland had remained on his ship for the night. When Elizaveta approached the docks, she could see the large, square of bright light quivering over the waves behind the stern of the ship, spilling out of the cabin windows. She lowered her hood to wink at a seamen standing guard at the gangway and he let her by with an appreciative leer. She made sure to add a bit of extra sway to her hips as she sauntered up the gangplank, but as soon as she made it out of sight, she all but ran towards the cabin door. She pressed her ear to the portal, and distantly heard the sound of soft music playing. Holding her breath, she pushed the latch-knob down, sighing in relief when it opened. On the other side was the large poop cabin, dark and empty, with its oval table bolted to the floor and a large world map pinned to its surface. A large globe, even bigger than her head, was bolted at the edge of the table and a few sheaves of parchment were weighed down by bright, glass bunnies with wings. Starlight streaming through the large glass panes caught in the pretty glass figures, giving them a faintly green and silver glow. She frowned at the strange paperweights as she tip-toed to the side door that led to the captain's quarters. The music was gaining in volume and Elizaveta stopped dead, heart pounding painfully.

A violin.

Tears gathered in her eyes. The last time she heard a violin- her shaking fingers covered her mouth and she closed her eyes, letting the soft, beautiful croon of the instrument fill her with images of that long ago life. Of Roderich's beautiful pale face frowning just so as he concentrated, the bow sliding gracefully through the air and slender fingers pressing down on the strings at the neck. She took a deep shuddering breath and forced herself to move. That life was over and done and it was time she helped the men she loved in this life.

She marched up to the door and flung it open. In one hand she held a cocked pistol, but it was pointed to the ground. In the cabin, Arthur lowered his violin and turned to look at her, huge bushy brows high. She blinked at Arthur's utter lack of surprise. He merely nodded to her politely and walked over to where the velvet lined violin case rested. With brisk, efficient motions, he set the violin down, snapped the case shut, and turned back to her, leaning on the table.

"Good evening. A bit late to be visiting another man when you are a married women, don't you think? Of course, this is Tortuga…" Arthur trailed off, smirking. Elizaveta sneered at him.

"You know for the fact I am not and never have been for sale, Kirkland. You knew I was coming tonight."

"You had your gypsy friends keeping an eye out for my ship. _My_ less than savory friends informed me of this. Why do you think I stayed on board? I knew we'd need more privacy than some pirate hole," Arthur explained, seating himself on his chair.

A small waffling sort of noise followed by a thump had Elizaveta spinning around, pistol rising. Arthur sighed, getting to his feet, as Elizaveta blinked in surprise once again. Lying on the bed, mostly hidden by the dark blue drapes that fell in front of the bunk, was a tall, fair-haired young man. His shaggy dirty-blond hair fanned over the cream-colored linen pillow he was hugging to his chest and had one leg draped over. Drool pooled over the cloth and what looked like some sort of sauce was still staining his mouth. In his fist, he clutched a pair of shining spectacles. Arthur tutted under his breath and knelt by the bed, wiping whatever was on the young man's face away with a snowy-white handkerchief.

"Still such a boy," Arthur murmured fondly. He worked the eyepieces from the boy's hand. He got to his feet, slipping the spectacles into his waistcoat pocket. "He'll probably break these in his sleep like he did that last pair. I'm sure you've heard about Alfred." He glanced over at her, his smirk still soft.

"Yes… Francis mentioned him. I see he stayed with you," Elizaveta noted, finally sheathing her pistol and smiling at the adorable picture the lanky, sun-browned young man made.

"I really have no idea why. We yell at each other more than we get along, but… there are moments…" Arthur shook his head. "You are not here to discuss my protégé, Mrs. Beilschmidt. You're here to discuss your Spaniard." He watched mutely as the light died in Elizaveta's eyes, making her beautiful green eyes dark. "I cannot help you."

"What are you talking about! Of course you can! You have magic!" Elizaveta exclaimed. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and touched Alfred's hair gently.

"Not enough for something like that. Magic comes with a price and my paltry amount could not pay high enough to do anything. I cannot heal despair. I cannot heal a man's heart," Arthur stated clearly, his voice rather regretful. "I hate that bastard, but because of him, even inadvertently, Alfred has remained by my side. Carriedo saved me from myself that day in Siracusa three years ago. I would have lost the only thing that has mattered to me if he hadn't chased after his beloved siren." Piercing eyes met hers. "For that reason, I _would_ help him, but I _cannot_. In this, you must trust me."

"You... you have to do something! You owe him! Just… bring Lovino back!" Elizaveta begged, tears forming before she dashed them away angrily.

"You have no idea what you ask of me. When Lovino left, he left to where Antonio could never find him. If he were anywhere in this reality, Antonio _would know and seek him_. He is well and truly gone from here. I cannot span that distance with my puny power," Arthur said, the vein in his temple throbbing.

"Another… reality? Another world?"

"It is and it isn't another world. It is _this_ world, but it is in infinite number. One decision here continues this reality, but in another, there are the consequences of a thousand different decisions. Today you decided to see me. In another reality, you decided to wait until tomorrow morning. Or decided never to come. Do you understand?"

"I think so…"

"Thus _bringing him back_ is an impossibility for me. Your Spaniard should have made a better choice," Arthur muttered dryly.

"But surely… why can you not turn back time? Give him another chance to choose. It was never his lack of love that made him choose poorly!" Elizaveta pressed. Arthur glared at her, ears flushing red.

"It was his lack of faith! Faith in himself! Faith in love! In this reality he will _always_ have that flaw!" Arthur snapped. "If I turn back time, they will not remember what had already happened, he will not have learned from his mistake. And who knows the repercussions it would have on all the realities. Once again, you have no idea what you ask. The curse has been played out here."

"Curse?" Elizaveta murmured. Arthur sighed.

"Lovino's curse. All along there had been a curse on the siren. Only love, and faith in that love, could break it. Antonio might have won his journey, but he failed the curse. He failed _Lovino_," Arthur emphasized. Elizaveta gritted her teeth.

"Why didn't anyone tell him? How could he have possibly known he was being tested if _no one told him_!" Elizaveta snapped.

"That's not how magic works! Lovino was physically unable to tell him the curse. If I had told him, then he wouldn't have been able to break it," Arthur retorted harshly. "Do you truly wish to help him, Elizaveta Beilschmidt?"

"Yes!"

"Then kill him."

Silence stretched on between them, grim and horrified.

"W-What?" Elizaveta breathed.

Arthur sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "He's only suffering more being alive. His condition will only become worse. This isn't just mortal _pining_. There's so much more- Gah!" He got to his feet and began to pace, his gestures becoming wild. "Lovino's curse was very deliberately set. It could be broken by only _one_ soul. He is not allowed to seek the soul for himself, the soul must seek and find _him_. Only _one_ soul in every reality, in all the many thousands will do. Antonio _is_ that soul. If he dies, eventually he will be reborn and he will seek out Lovino again. The faster you kill him, the faster you can restart the curse," Arthur said simply, making her blood run cold.

"I could never… none of us could do that…" Elizaveta murmured. Arthur sank into his chair again and sighed.

"That's my only advice."

"Is there another Antonio in the other reality that will end it instead?" Elizaveta asked softly.

"No. When I said in every reality, I meant in all the possible decisions and realities that overlap, there is only one Antonio. His decisions will not affect reality until he breaks the curse. There is only this one and he happens to be in this reality."

"Can't there… Isn't there any other way? Truly? He has no hope in this lifetime?" Elizaveta whispered, her voice small and forlorn.

"Well there is… but knowing won't help you. You have no control over it," Arthur muttered, breaking himself off.

"No, tell me! I must know," Elizaveta pleaded.

"A miracle, really. It is not only Antonio who lacks faith. Lovino, too, did not have enough faith. Lovino is a siren and, as his Price for his Power, he has no soul. Antonio _is_ his soul, his _heart_. If Antonio had chosen properly, Lovino would have shed his immortality and Power and gained what we humans take for so much granted," his eyes darted to the slumbering Alfred across the room. "He would have gained love, a heart, a soul. However, believing that a mortal, a fallible, weak mortal, could ever possibly see past what he could give as a being of magic… well… that's a bit difficult, I would suspect. If Lovino could find hope in love, hope enough to cast aside every consequence, then maybe _he_ could be the one to break his own curse. I doubt he realizes this little loophole, though. Contracts don't always come on parchment, with fine writing difficult, but legible to peruse when one is in doubt," Arthur joked wryly.

"So… only Lovino… can help them," Elizaveta murmured. Arthur nodded.

"Only Lovino, now. Antonio did his part and failed. You might as well kill the poor bastard. It would take a miracle for that cranky prat of a siren to find hope and realize he had the power all along to love."

"Don't kill him," said a groggy voice. The two jumped, a small squawk of surprise pulled from Elizaveta's throat. They both turned to see Alfred sit up, wiping at the drool with the back of his fist as he blinked.

"Alfred, go back to bed. Mrs. Beilschmidt is just about to leave," Arthur ordered crossly as he stood from his chair. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I was sayin' somethin', Cap'n. Look, Mrs. Howeveryousayyourname, don't kill that Antonio man. I believe in him and that golden… Lovino, right?" Elizaveta nodded mutely, struck dumb by his words. He grinned at her. "Lovino… saw something that day. He saw what would happen if the contract was made, he knew that everything I _like_ about Artie here would be gone. That he wouldn't even be Artie and then the person I loved would be gone."

"Don't call me Artie! Bloody hell!"

"Believe in a miracle, Beilsmit," Alfred continued, ignoring the Brit. "Miracles _do_ happen. I was an orphan, with a younger brother to feed. I used to blacken boots and pickpockets. And one day, this posh git strolled up. I knew he'd be one to stiff me on my charge, so I plucked out a bit more quid than he meant me to have and took off, easy as you please. Then, somehow, he managed to find me. I was just trying to get my brother somewhere outta the rain, 'cause he was coughin' real bad, and Artie grabbed me. Instead of whippin' me, or takin' me to the constables, he took one look at me 'n' my brother and helped us. My brother's at a boardin' school, Eton, he wants to be a doctor for animals. And me? Artie asked me if I wanted to be a pirate and here I am! Mattie, my brother, he might have died if we lived on the streets much longer. But 'cause of a miracle, Artie appeared in my life and it got a lot better and my brother is all well now." Alfred ended his story, grinning widely as Arthur blushed so red steam almost poured from his ears. Elizaveta giggled behind her hand.

"I will, Alfred. Thank you," she said as she got to her feet.

"You should come and talk with us again," Alfred offered brightly. "Maybe next time during the day. You should bring your own food, though, if you come for lunch or dinner. Arthur's food is always pretty gross."

"_You used to love that food! So shut up!_" Arthur exclaimed as Elizaveta laughed again. Arthur turned to her, fuming as Alfred's loud, rollicking laughter spilled into the room like sunshine. "Remember that Antonio must not know of the curse if you want him to break it in this lifetime. You must keep it from him, or no manner of miracle will allow Lovino to return to this reality."

"Yes… thank you…" Elizaveta murmured. She curtseyed automatically- awkwardly as she wore men's breeches- and left the ship.

.

When she returned to her lovely stone cottage, the moon was high in the sky, past its zenith. She yawned, knowing the day ahead would most likely be an unpleasant, sleepy fog. Caring for a young child, a toddler, and an infant was no mean feat, and added to that were three grown men full of guilt and remorse. No, Elizaveta's days were not the easiest anymore. She sighed and slipped past the gate into the kitchen garden. Their small cottage was surrounded by high, ivy-covered walls Elizaveta and Gilbert had built to keep out any drunken sailors. _Once_ she woke up to a huddle of drunken bodies on her herb patch.

Never again.

A hook was waiting patiently for her cloak beside the door. She drifted through the house, information bouncing in her skull, checking every lock. She then checked each room's occupant, smiling at Friedrich and Wilhelmina, whom had curled up on the same bed again. In another room, Antonio slept fitfully, muttering and moaning under his breath. While she now understood just _why_ this ordeal was affecting him so much, it didn't make her feel any better as he flailed through nightmares of being _so close_, and then letting his treasure slip away once more. She finally made it to her own bedroom, the crib where Elik lay a dark shadow at the foot of the bed. She paused in the door way, smiling sadly.

Gilbert sat at the window, one foot resting on the sill he perched on, the other on the floor. An arm lay over his knee, clasping his hanging free hand loosely, and he was staring out the window, up into the eastern sky. She crossed the room and knelt beside him, resting her cheek and hand on his thigh. She raised bright green eyes to his face as he looked down at her. They both smiled, though his was sharp and hollow.

"Hello, Lizzie. How did it go?"

"You had men looking for the _Last Revenge_, didn't you?" Elizaveta returned with a resigned sigh.

"Anything… anything for Ludwig, for Antonio, and Francis. I can't stand this. I can't stand how _heavy_ everything is," Gilbert murmured, returning his gaze to the stars shining outside.

"I know, _Liebste_," Elizaveta soothed, kissing his leg through the thin cotton of his night drawers.

"Did the Brit say anything? Is he going to help?"

"He cannot- No, listen. I believe him. Magic has limits, especially a mortal's magic. The only thing we can do is pray."

"Pray for what," Gilbert demanded harshly. Elizaveta laid her hand over his.

"A miracle, _Liebste_. And hasn't God given us so many already? How could we not believe that He has so many more in store for us? Believe in miracles,Gilbert, and come to bed," she told him, standing up and holding out her hand.

He stared at her, blood red eyes shocked. Then, he grinned and snickered. With a sudden move that reminded her just how _quick_ her husband could be, he swept her off her feet and carried her, now giggling like a young girl, to the bed.

"You always bring out the light in me, Lizzie," Gilbert murmured as he moved over her.

"We bring it out in each other," Elizaveta whispered back.

"_Ja…_ how do you feel about a fifth kid?"

"Oh Lord, help me."

"Kesesesese."

.

_Kitty: Awwww, PruHun fluff. Sorry there wasn't a lot of Antonio or Lovino in here. Wait, there pretty much wasn't any at all. ;w; I felt I needed the explanation Elizaveta got from Arthur. Also, in there somewhere is a bit of a foreshadow. If you've read _Sea Foam, _a key bit of wording should make you go 'ping!' If not, it's all right. It's still implied heavily enough. XD_


	7. Free

_Kitty: I meant to write this HOURS ago! I'm so friggin sorry! I really hope I manage to pull this outta my butt in less than two hours. My stepmom wants me up again tomorrow at 7 bloody 30. _

_Music: Almost Lover- A Fine Frenzy, (again) My Heart is Lost to You- Brooks and Dunn, We Owned the Night- Lady Antebellum, Just a Kiss- Lady Antebellum_

_To TheNextAlice: You disabled your PM feature! Your review was so funny, I wanted to reply! And you totally cockblocked me! *creys* Also- first time I've been called a troll. =w=b Sweeet. _

_Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own Hetalia. I hate you, law. Hate. You. _

_Dedication: To all my lovely reviewers. All those who followed me from Hetalia Fairytales, you guys are so amazing. I feel like I have a small posse. I told my stepmom we could take over a small village. Soon, we'll be able to take on a small town! Also, thanks to all my new reviewers, who enjoyed this story with me and left so many encouraging words. Also to all my silent readers, who have favved and alerted this story, and also me as an author. Thank y'all so very much for being AMAZING. ;w;_

The Greatest Treasure, You Idiot

Chapter Seven

Free

It was summer again. The daylight hours were getting longer, the sunsets later and later in the day. It didn't matter, though. Antonio always found his way to the wall just as the sun sank below the horizon. The wall around the stone cottage was only meant to keep drunks from wandering in and was fairly easy to scale. The trio, Francis, Gil, and Antonio, had often sat there, legs dangling over the path, their backs to the garden, passing around a bottle of wine and just enjoying the end of a relaxing day on land. It had been a long time since they'd just relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. A long time since Antonio remembered enjoying anything. Life had become so bleak that not even that wondrous sunset looked beautiful anymore. He couldn't even understand why. It was as if a huge part of himself had been ripped away and he couldn't feel whole.

He ran the slender golden chain through his fingers, the gold warmed from his skin, the ruby hot on his palm.

Children were running and shrieking in the garden behind him, little Wilhelmina chasing after Friedrich, their laughter an innocent music he barely heard. He knew Elizaveta was stretched out on a blanket, her infant son Elik beside her. Inside the house came the gentle trill of a bird. Just that morning, Gilbert had returned with a caged canary for his children, as laughing and boisterous as he used to be. Antonio, somewhere in inside him, was glad that Gilbert was back to himself again.

He turned as someone grunted and pulled himself up onto the wall. A window clattered open. Gilbert swung a leg over and Francis climbed through an upstairs window, carefully making his way over the veranda roof towards the wall. Within moments, his two friends were perched on either side and Francis was holding out a bottle of wine. Antonio grabbed the neck and, with a short sigh first, threw back his head and chugged down a gulp. It slid down smooth as honey, but his head was reeling when he passed it to Gilbert.

"That's expensive," Antonio noted, as Gilbert gasped and crowed aloud.

"The time called for it, _mon ami_," Francis said simply, snagging the bottle from behind Antonio's head. "You stink. When did you bathe last?" he demanded, his nose curling.

"… I think... I did… today…" Antonio trailed off, green eyes puzzled as he tried desperately to pull together the scattered images in his brain.

"This has to stop, Tony," Gilbert said as he pulled out papers and tobacco. For the most part, Elizaveta hated smoking, but she ignored it when they were perched up on the wall. He rolled a fag as Francis pressed the bottle into Antonio's hand. Antonio shoved the necklace into his pocket as he swigged more wine.

"He's right. We can't dwell on what happened. None of us…" Francis trailed off, blue eyes opaque as he gazed at the sunset.

"We all feel guilty and confused because of what happened, but we can't keep hiding. It's been three years. I can't waste the rest of my life wishing I never agreed to Lutz's idea, missing him and feeling helpless," Gilbert continued for Francis as he gulped down some wine and shoved it back at Antonio. "I have people who love me, we all do."

"I am tired of being too afraid to apologize," Francis whispered. Antonio whipped his head around, eyes wide.

"Apologize?"

"I gave you bad advice that day," Francis replied with a wry smile. He held up his hand as Antonio wrenched his mouth open. "_Non_, listen. I told you that you could never have happiness with the one you loved. I told you to let him go. All these years I've thought, 'what if I told him to follow his heart? What if, just once, I believed in a love that overcame all odds?' If I had, Antonio, would you have made the right the choice? Would Lovino have stayed, would Ludwig be with us even now? I've had this weight on my shoulders, these demons in my mind that tell me because of _my_ lack of faith both of _you_ suffered."

"Ah, c'mon, Franfran. I don't blame you," Gilbert protested, throwing his arm in the air, the lit paper glowing brightly between his fingers. "It's not like you _knew_ it would happen! I woulda told Tony the same thing!"

"I never once blamed you, Francis. It was my decision in the end. It had always been _my_ choice," Antonio said firmly, clasping Francis's shoulder and squeezing briefly. He handed over the bottle as Francis grinned.

"_Oui_, I know it now. It does make me feel better to hear it, though," Francis quipped lightly.

They sat in silence a moment, passing around smouldering tobacco and quickly diminishing wine with the ease of old practice. Gilbert suddenly cleared his throat.

"We should go out."

A heart beat of pause.

"Where?" Antonio whispered, the locket hot in his pocket, the wine churning in his gut. He took a drag on the cigarette and passed it to Francis. The smoke burned his throat, tore with sharp fingers at the lining in his lungs, expelled in a warm rush into the night air past his lips.

"West. Maybe we'll never find that damned island, but I don't want to give up on my brother."

"I agree. We'll go west. Maybe we will find your Lovino again. Maybe we won't. But we will find something."

Antonio nodded, but he knew neither would be found. Lovino was well and truly gone. It was better than nothing, though. "All right."

"The men have been waiting for you to set sail for years, you know. They leave, but they always come back. Most of them are in Tortuga now," Francis told him, with a lift of his blond brow.

"Why don't we sail next month? Stock up, recall what men are scattered, all those good and responsible things I hate doing," Gilbert listed up lazily, taking another deep inhale of smoke.

"Yes. A month."

"You really should bathe, _mon ami_," Francis repeated, eying Antonio lank, greasy hair and dirty fingernails in disdain. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Pansy-man. A man can skip a day or two and be fine. We don't exactly frolic in bubbles out at sea, do we?" Gilbert retorted, wrapping an arm around Antonio's shoulders, the empty bottle thumping against Antonio's chest. Gilbert paused, sniffed audibly. "Wow, you _do_ stink."

"Oh, shut up, Gil," Antonio objected, laughing aloud as he elbowed Gilbert's ribs.

And he continued laughing, his brows contracted low over his nose, his arm moving to wrap around his stomach. Slowly, his friends joined in, the wine coursing in their blood and brains, making them woozy already. Antonio threw back his head, laughed full-bellied towards the stars, tears streaming down his face as his whole body shook.

Yes, the emptiness was still there. Yes, there was a despair that nibbled on the edges of his mind and probably always would. But he had two great friends, blood rich with wine, the smell of sharp, burning tobacco in his nose, and the sound of children's laughter shrieking in the garden.

"You idiots get down from there before you fall!" Elizaveta warned them, making them only laugh harder, collapsing against one another and holding themselves up.

God, it still hurt. But maybe it was okay to be alive.

.

It took a little more than a month, but the _Buscador Dorado_ was officially setting sail the next day with the high tide. Three years. At first, it had been odd to feel the wood shifting beneath his feet, to smell the brine and tar, hear the yelling and cursing and the slap of canvas and rope, but it lasted only a fleeting moment. _Buscador _was home. She always would be. Antonio was swabbing the decks, mending sails, and tallying inventory with everyone, never in one place too long, but always in every place whenever he was needed. His men were ecstatic. When he had stepped foot off the gangplank on to the deck, hats and scarves and bandanas had been flung up into the air as every man whooped and hollered, rushing forward to slap their _capitan_ on the back and welcome him. A few of them even got teary when Antonio broke into a large grin.

Throughout the month, though, it became clear he wasn't _exactly_ as he was before. There were moments when a person spoke with him that his eyes became dark and empty, something frozen in their normally so cheerful depths. Sometimes, he would suddenly turn away in the middle of sentence, either his own or someone addressing him, and then pace until he was able to return, force a smile, and continue the conversation. Other times, he stood at the rails- just standing and braced on his hand, completely and utterly still and silent. He never picked up his guitar. Never sang a song. Never danced in the taverns as his men got drunk and caroused around him. Small, strange inconsistencies from his old character. He was still their_ capitan,_ though. That was all that mattered.

Antonio was standing at the rails again that late twilight. The slap of sea against the hull, the low, groaning and creaking of wooden boards, the call of the last of the gulls before they settled for sleep; simple, familiar sounds that were like a lullaby. He could barely remember his life before his first days at sea as a boy. He couldn't remember the face of his mother whom died of sickness and poverty, couldn't remember the names of the siblings, all younger than him, that starved and moaned in tiny rooms too full of bodies. Sometimes, when he concentrated, he could remember the smell of cheap tequila and stale tobacco and see the tall, dark form of his father, but he didn't remember much else. His life on the sea had always seemed more like home.

He reached into his pocket and, sighing, pulled free the locket. The gold glittered in the last rays of the sunset, the bright full moon shining down like a silver beacon and glistening on the ruby's surface. All that this silly little trinket stood for was meaningless. It was time to end it. Lovino would never return. And Antonio couldn't blame him. He had failed- failed so _damn_ badly.

_I told him I would have faith in him. But I never earned his faith in me. What a joke_, Antonio thought bitterly, his fingers curling into a fist.

He stretched back his arm, taking a deep breath as his muscles tensed.

"Haven't you heard of fucking candles?"

Antonio spun around, stepped back, almost tumbling over the rails into the port waters. His nails scrabbled over smoothly sanded wood, until he managed to grip it and pull himself upright. "_Santa Maria_… L-Lovino?" Antonio breathed aloud, his heart hammering.

He was perched on the capstan, one leg crossed over the other. His clothes were strange, haphazard; a rough white, linen shirt with its sleeves rolled up, black oiled-canvas breeches torn too short, bare feet. Spiky fins spread out from his wrists and ankles, and his nails looked dangerously sharp. Gills flared on his neck briefly before sinking into his flesh. He looked so utterly inhumane, so ridiculously beautiful, Antonio's breath was trapped in his lungs and he was getting lightheaded, as if drunk. The locket slipped from his fingers to the deck with a soft clatter.

"Who else, you idiot?" Lovino snapped, though his smirk wavered at the corners.

Antonio was across the deck, lifting Lovino off the capstan, before the siren could even squawk. Lovino was set down on his feet, but Antonio couldn't take his hands away. He stroked over his hips, up his ribs, rejoicing in the burning heat of Lovino's skin, cupping his sharp-featured, delicately-boned face in his hands, tangled fingers through thick, brown hair. Lovino didn't protest for once, just eagerly returned the attention, greedy fingers plucking at too many layers of clothing and weapon belts and tracing the line of his collarbone. Antonio leaned down, kissed Lovino's forehead, then his temple, before gathering the smaller man in to a tight embrace and breathing in the wild, oceanic smell of him.

"Why… where…" Antonio broke off, choking, and Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Pick _one_."

"Where did you go?" Antonio forced out, reluctantly pulling away to look down into Lovino's face. Lovino's gaze darted away.

"Away. A different reality, actually. A completely different place, like this one. I wanted to go as far away as possible. I felt that I had to go that far. You were so damn close, Antonio. It hurt so much… damn you, _damn you_…" his voice broke and faded as his eyes closed.

Antonio swallowed hard, letting his forehead fall forward onto Lovino's. "Why did you come back?" he whispered.

There was a long moment, and Antonio felt a flicker of fear that maybe Lovino wouldn't answer and disappear again. Maybe already he was regretting his sudden reappearance. In reflex, his hold on Lovino tightened, making the siren squirm.

"What the hell are you doing? I'm not going anywhere!" Lovino squeaked indignantly. Antonio chuckled and relaxed his hold the tiniest bit. "I can't, if you have to know. I just… I just fucking can't stay away. As much as it hurts, it hurts more not being with you. Wherever I am, it'll never be enough not being with you, damn it! Are you happy?" Lovino exclaimed, his fist hitting Antonio's arm. Fins scraped over camlet fabric, and Lovino sighed. The fins and lengthened nails pulled down into his flesh neatly.

"No, Lovi-"

"Shut the fuck up! I'm not done yet! I came back because… because I found hope," Lovino said, finally looking back up at him. A dry, rueful smirk on his face. "A stupid, naïve, little merman gave up _everything_ to have just three days with the mortal he loved. He should have dissolved, he should have _died_, but the mortal chose him in time. A mortal king chose a nameless, voiceless merman, because for once, love was enough. Antonio… if it could be enough for them, why the hell can't it work for us?" Lovino demanded, scowling as his golden eyes shined.

"_Ay, mi corazon_, forgive me. I was so stupid. I am _so_ sorry. I messed up," Antonio pleaded, pressing his lips to Lovino's creased forehead.

"Fucking right you did."

"I just… you are so…" Antonio smiled and stroked Lovino's cheek. "We're both so different. You're _magic, _Lovi, my Lovi… I'll grow old and die soon. How could you ever be a choice for me? A mortal?"

"Even if you grow old and grey, fuck, if you start gibbering and I have to wipe the shit off your ass," Antonio burst into laughter, "shut up. I will… I will _love_ you. Always." Lovino muttered, his face bright red in the starlight. Antonio's eyes widened and he smiled.

"_Dios_…_mi corazon_, I love you. I love you, too. I was so _stupid_-"

"Yes, we already know that. You're an imbecile. Now, shut the hell up and kiss me, idiot," Lovino ordered brusquely, grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him down.

"Are you sure, Lovi?" Antonio murmured, holding Lovino in place and making the siren groan. "This is serious, Lovi. Are you sure you want to be chained to a mortal man? I can only give you so much and then I will be gone. Will it even be worth it for you?" Antonio asked, his eyes dark with doubt and fear. Lovino sighed.

"You still don't get it. _It was always you_. You were always supposed to seek me. I know it now. And _damn the consequences_, I will be with you. When you die, I will find you. I give a fuck about the rules. You are _mine_ and I am _yours_ through every eternity. I will search through every reality, I will love you whatever body you inhabit. One day, I don't care when, maybe we'll get it right at last and I can be with you the right way, but I don't care how long it takes. It's enough now that we're together, you fucking idiot."

Antonio blinked, bewildered, but his lips quirked up into a smile. "I like the sound of that, _mi corazon_. I think."

"And you, dumb as you are," Lovino huffed, making Antonio laugh, "will you trust me to find you?"

Antonio grinned and pulled away. He took a long step back before he bowed, sweeping his arm to the side. He looked up, that stupid grin on his face as Lovino's lips twitched. A large hand, so much paler than it used to be, clasped his in a firm, warm grip. Antonio's lips brushed Lovino's knuckles, then he flipped Lovino's hand over to press a kiss, damp, warm, and intimate, to Lovino's palm.

"It was only myself I did not trust. I only wanted to give you everything, but felt I had nothing to offer. _Mi corazon_, don't you remember? I will always have faith in _you_," Antonio said as he straightened.

Lovino's eyes widened and he laughed, a real, happy laugh that lit up his whole face. Antonio swept him up into his arms and kissed that laughing mouth, sure that nothing could taste sweeter. He wanted to drink in the longed for feel of the lithe, slender body in his arms, melt into the smaller man's body and sink deep into him. Those moments so long ago, snatched on voyages with expiration dates, had never been enough. However, when Antonio touched his lips to Lovino's, golden light flooded Lovino's skin under Antonio's mouth and both froze, eyes widening in confusion as they stared at each other. Lovino dropped to his feet and they raised their arms high, trying to block the light, but Lovino couldn't escape it. It was under his skin, beneath his eyelids, the gold light was filling up every nook and cranny of him. Antonio's arm was tight around his waist, desperate to hold him in place in case the weird golden light took Lovino away again. Instead, it was gone in a flash, leaving like a punch in Lovino's gut, doubling him over. A grunt escaped and they both fell to their knees, blinking away bright, white spots.

When they could finally see again, Antonio felt as it something was wrong with his eyes. He blinked, shook his head, then blinked again. Lovino raised his hands, wide eyes staring at the pale, web-less digits. He pressed his fingers to his neck and raised eyes, now a light, amber color rather than flawless gold, to Antonio's face.

"The curse broke. I have no fucking clue how or why, but the curse broke. I'm a mortal, Antonio. I… I have a soul!" Lovino exclaimed jubilantly, an amazed, unabashed smile curving his lips.

"A soul? You didn't… you mean, you had a _curse_? That's what the choice was about? I had to break your _curse_?" Antonio gasped, his fingers running over Lovino's arms where the trail of scales had been.

"Yes! Oh… Feliciano, he'll be fucking stupidly happy. He's been wanting to be mortal and fall in love and… we have to go get him. He's going to flip shit at me already. How long have I been gone? I was gone for fifty years in that reality!"

"Whoa, calm down, Lovi," Antonio soothed him, holding his shoulders when he tried to rise. "It's only been three years, not fifty. Do I look older than seventy than you? The _Buscador_ was going to set sail for west tomorrow. You came just in time," Antonio joked.

Lovino grinned up at Antonio, amber eyes teary. "I can't believe I'm really fucking free. I'm really free, Antonio," he breathed aloud. He threw himself at Antonio, sending them tumbling to the deck. Antonio's hands immediately clasped Lovino's narrow hips as they laughed.

"Will you stay with me, even though you are free?" Antonio asked, his green eyes warm and twinkling just like they always used to. Lovino scoffed.

"You belong to _me_, remember? I can't let you out of my sight." He kissed Antonio to shut him up, blushing fiercely.

.

The trip west was successful. They found Feliciano and Ludwig waiting for them on the beach, the once-siren waving ecstatically. Both pairs of brothers were a loud, excited mess of hugging, kissing, crying, and laughing (and cursing) before they left the tiny dot of land far behind. For the next twenty years, the trio sailed the seven seas, Lovino with them, though he sometimes opted to stay on land with Elizaveta or Feliciano. Ludwig sailed with them for a while, but left with Feliciano back to Germany before he was even thirty. He founded a small brewery there and became a famous businessman and brewer. Feliciano was just as famous for the food he made to go with the beer.

Soon after Lovino returned, the small group of friends made a trip to Austria. It resulted in Elizaveta finally having her son, and his estates, returned to her guardianship. Her ever growing family moved up to Austria, where she was able to finally reconnect with her first son, Roderich. Gilbert was in and out constantly, but all the children, including Roderich, were fond of him- ridiculously so. There were always canaries for birthday gifts, for some reason… He finally retired at the ripe old age of sixty-three from his highjinks on the sea. He and Elizaveta retired to the small dowager cottage on the outskirts of the Edelstein estates and lived surrounded by children, grandchildren, and animals, and, of course, the numerous visits of friends.

Francis decided to return to Paris when he retired. He gave money to many orphanages and hospitals for charity and hosted soirees as often as possible. It was there, in a crowded, dirty clinic for the poor, at the age of 47, he finally found his own love. A young British man who, having spent ten years in the British and French colonies of North America, spoke French with such a strange, pleasant twang that Francis felt compelled to constantly get in his way just to get the man to speak. For some reason, he was completely unnoticeable by those around him, but Francis had been smitten within moments. By the time he finally found out young Matthew William Jones was related, in a strange way, to Arthur Kirkland, it was far too late.

Antonio and Lovino finally settled in Spain when Antonio was almost fifty. He passed on the _Buscador_ to Gilbert, who sailed it almost a decade longer, and bought a small farm. He and Lovino grew tomatoes and lived in a small, warm house that over looked the ocean and great, rolling meadows. Goats grazed their land and Lovino constantly complained about the large amount of stray cats Antonio brought home. They sold tomatoes in the village until they were too old to push the wagon, and then just sat side by side at their home, while the multitude of children that Antonio brought home from the streets took care of the tomatoes- and pretty much everything else they needed.

Maybe it wasn't perfect. Maybe a lot of people looked askance when they walked by, Antonio shamelessly holding Lovino's hand. Maybe Antonio wasn't allowed to go to church on Sundays and Lovino had to deal with aging (he did it poorly).

But they never looked back. They lived together and loved together, holding hands, one smiling, the other scowling, with no regrets to haunt them ever again.

.

_Kitty: This was supposed to be done hours ago! ;w; Today is going to suck. Three hours of sleep, here I come. But NO REGRETS! I LOVED this story! Thank you for being here with me, everyone. _


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